Perhaps my writing ecosystem is likened to that of fungus: let it all be left untended, lost, forgotten. Let it rot and decay, and my newest creations shall grow from the sludge like a fungus. It may not sound “beautiful,” but that is how it has been. I’ve been without internet for nearly two weeks. I wrote a lot. Quite a few blog posts, some poems, the starts to some stories. I probably won’t publish them. Instead, I’ll write this post — a growth consuming the decay of everything I leave forgotten. Of course, in this time, I’ve also been out and about as usual…

At long last, I have lived in Iceland for one year, consecutively. On November 16, 2023, I landed in Iceland, moved into my Airbnb, and first truly called this country home. Since then, I’ve gone on a wild adventure as I have previously described. In the last two weeks alone, I’ve been to an evening work event, a Halloween party, a sendoff party, two birthday parties, a dinner party, and a movie night. Not to mention the regular writing group, meeting with the older man, karaoke nights, library group, and philosophy group. Or meeting with friends and work itself. All in two weeks. I find that a good summary of how things turned out for me moving to Iceland. Before coming here, what did I do? I met with my one friend remaining in Michigan perhaps once every two weeks. That was all…

My time in LA was characterized by the stereotypical American city: eight lanes of crowded traffic in both directions, parking lots absolutely everywhere, no pedestrians, and big, fancy office buildings. The people I know told of their plans: working, moving up the ladder, and making money; school for the sake of work, work for the sake of money, money for the sake of a home. The enjoyment of life? The question was more often, “What enjoyment of life?” I feel bad for my Korean friend who just started a serious relationship only to have to go back to Korea for 18 months (putting his final years of med school on pause) so he can do his mandatory military service...