At World’s End

As I’m typing this I’m far away somewhere at the foot of a mountain surrounded by a forrest in the north of Portugal.

It’s beautiful really and I hope you can see it one day.

We’ve had 1/3rd of our time here already and if there’s one thing this time has did for me is make me realize what I want.

Rob would be proud.

But was a journey to the end of the world really necessary to achieve it?

Maybe.

I keep forgetting who said it but there’s a quote by a stoic who said live a year in the circumstances you fear the most and discover you’ve dreaded nothing.

Completely butchering it, but you get the idea.

Electricity is scarce, internet is dependent on my data bundle, stores are a 30 minute drive away and the most nearby village is a 15 minute walk up a steep mountain.

Shit! Have a become a patriarchal masculine Twitter account?!

Well I can tell you the men who work here on the grounds are far from your flexing Twitter accounts.

They don’t look clean, or as if they care about their manhood. 

They care about the work getting done.

Potbelly strong as I like to call it, because believe me if there’s one thing I found out here is that deadlifting 315 x 5 is WAY different than moving 600lbs logs with a cable to get it into a pick up truck.

Being shredded looks nice and gets you da gurlzah but is far from practical.

I’m straying from the point what do I want.

But I can’t let a good shitting a larpers go to waste.

A lot of those guys hammer on about MANUAL LABOR and returning to MANHOOD, far away in a comfortable apartment typing on there iPhone having NO idea what it’s like or even “degrading” themselves to working in a factory to be surrounded by the working class they so romanticize.

Now who reminds me of that? Roseialists? Poserialists? Hm it’ll get back to me. 

It made me realize that yes I do value minimalism but I also value certain modern comforts like flip of a switch electricity for a certain amount of time of my life.

Drinkable tap water in exchange for a certain amount of my time of my life.

Unlimited internet access in exchange for a certain amount of my time of my life.

Just a certain amount of civilization in exchange for a certain amount of time of my life.

Funny, I still don’t want kids or get married, guess that just took dating the modern women a couple of times instead of living in a cabin in the woods. HA!

I’m even starting to miss Twitter, because I am getting some good brain farts here and there.

Journaling has become a new activity of mine, you’d be surprised how well writing down something lets you move on.

I will leave you with this….unfortunately…

Rian Stone was right “These brands keep idealizing hard physical labor and they haven’t done it a day in their life. I’ve done it, my childhood was it and I will never do it again. I worked for my comfort damnit.

Paraphrasing, but it’s close.

I like my personal brand, my small little Youtube channel and tight little community and of course weekly sit-downs with Rob.

When I’m come back, we’re coming back hard.

Jack

One thought on “At World’s End

  1. The silence I loved when I was on a ship was in all reality a delay. That delay let a shitty reality pile up. It was good being around people I cared about, but the near lack of technology was actually a bad thing.
    When we got back, the world had gone to shit and many of us were looked like discontinued car models. It took me years to catch up.
    I couldn’t just wall myself off. That sounds all well and good, but it isn’t in practice for many.
    I like a time out also, but to fetishize it is bizarre. I need to know what I am supposed to be fighting or even how to communicate with the neutral types. I lost that being walled off. I lost a few decent people too.

    Liked by 2 people

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s