Twentysomething

When I was a travel writer for the briefest of stints, I pitched like crazy to all sorts of editors. Recently I found an old email from 2006 that tried to find a NYC angle on things that was going on (I was pitching these articles while I was on

She lives in a prison of her own choice, and she calls it duty.  Her social circle is stripped, her relatives gone, her movement restricted by the fact that she's never learned how to drive properly.

Living in Hanoi, I learned to love these rolls.  There was this awesome restaurant that was in an attic, and they serve you the fish on a hot bubbling plate of goodness that was so fragrant and rich in flavors.  Here’s the recipe for home. Fish * White fish fillets

I've never felt as free as I did then.  Not when I moved west. Not when I traveled the world with my girlfriend.

I want to complete stuff. Like playing the guitar. Like playing this song.  I've always felt stuff. But feeling doesn't fill space, doesn't give back, doesn't add anything to my person.  In my twenties, I've felt a lot: rage, uncertainty,

She wanted me to stay, but I hated the sticky sweet smell of the sheets afterwards.  It repulsed me.