I am a podcast host and writer. I enjoy discussing culture, society, life, death, drugs, philosophy, motivation and much more.
Listen to the podcast below.
There are only a few places in the world quite like this one. Where the vast, endless, old-growth temperate rainforest meets the wild, unrelenting, rugged coastline. Waves crash down on millennia of stone and rock and carve out magnificent jagged teeth as deep, dense, fog rolls over the treetops and litters the beaches.
It is a sight straight out of a fairy tale. Towering church steeples line the few streets with cobbled stone pathways and tunneling alleys with architecture dating back to the 8th century. With a coastline that wraps the entire town and castles that line the beaches, you truly do find a sense of awe and wonder when you walk these tiny Scottish streets.
This year my dream came true. I finally got hired as a freelance writer. It's been a long time coming, something I have wanted for longer than even I knew. If you google the company that hired me, you won't find anything. Maybe if you google my name you will find my profile.
"Great character was never born from comfort" Wait, did I just quote myself? Absolutely. I've read enough self-help books, watched enough documentaries, went through enough bullshit, and discussed at length with enough wonderful people to know what this whole game of life is about. With the new year ever-present and the new you most likely already in the garbage because of your inability to balance the desires of a hectic monkey mind, I am here to provide a saving grace. A lifeline for both you and me for the new year.
I journal every day. It begins, as a slew of rambling words about chaos and order and life and death, scribbled across pages in an unruly fashion. And ends, in a somewhat beautiful spectacle of short paragraph wisdom.
[Links to both previous episodes of Garths adventure can be found at the bottom of this story. Please check them out prior if you want to follow along]
Look at that god damn beautiful man up there, I bet you'd give him the contents of your pockets if he asked for them. I know I would, but then again, I'm a sucker for a good looker in sweet threads.
Day 20 I swear at night sometimes I hear someone calling my name softly in the waves. It is freaking me the hell out, I mean obviously I am going a bit crazy, its been 20 days now. The marks in the tree that my shelter is propped up against provide me with the only account of what has passed. Otherwise I would have no clue how long it has been.