THE SECOND DAY OF THE FIRST MONTH OF THE SIXTEENTH YEAR OF THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY

It is the second day of the first month of the sixteenth year of the twenty-first century. And I’m ready to go—make that really fucking ready to go. It’s been a long time (400 days, to be precise) since I returned home from my last venture, arriving Thanksgiving day, 2014. That’s more than a year trapped, enslaved, self-alienated, and drab.

Granted, I visited Portland in spring and Seattle in summer (accompanied in both instances by the enigmatic Lucas Lanier and fellow globe-trotter Kevin Chin) but that wasn’t ENOUGH. Could NEVER BE enough amid the uniform-wearing department management months between.

As I said: I’m ready to go.

Dear Freedom,

I write you now on the eve of enlightenment, seeking once more your divine intervention and blessing. Absorb me in your sweet effervescence—I close my eyes, my soul reborn, unbound, awash in the amniotic surge of discovery and enlightenment, rushing forward—awaken within me the liberty of existence, sans pretention and economic stability. I yearn to exude the life within me.

Yours truly,

Noah Abner Bowen

This time I’m taking my Dad with me for a portion of the adventure (a month in New Zealand), after that, I’ll meet Kevin for a few weeks, then fly to Thailand, solo, for a month. On the way back I’ll stop in Australia for the Byron Bay Bluesfest, catch three of my favorite musicians—D’angelo (R&B), Kendrick Lamar (RAP), and Kamasi Washington (JAZZ)—then travel to Melbourne to see two great gals I met in Scotland (that’s Mack and Gel Burke).

And then, home (FML).

But let’s not talk about that….

TEN DAYS TILL BLAST OFF!

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2….