Ad Nihilo: a travelogue of nowhere

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  • Personal Journals

At some point over the past ten years—somewhere in the midst of career changes, cancer, COVID, and kidnappings—I lost the thread. Everything has stopped making sense. Entirely. But, for once, I'm actually not worried about it—which is vaguely disconcerting. This is an honest attempt at recounting as I let the days drip off me (for however many there are left, at least). Let's hum into the void. It's okay if we forgot the words; no one really knew them anyway.

Episodes

  1. 06/14/2025

    The[re's No] Way Back 001: The Ballad of Blonski Pt. 2

    "Put your hands on the wheel Let the golden age begin" On June 7, 2005, John Blonski drowned in the reservoir. He was laid to rest June 13, 2005. Now that I've bade a friend farewell, it's time to talk about the unrelated events circling the ceremony.

    32 min

  2. 06/07/2025

    The[re's No] Way Back 001: The Ballad of Blonski - Part 1

    On June 7, 2005, John Blonski drowned in the reservoir. Brother John's passing marked the beginning of the end, but today I want to simply pay respects to a person who showed kindness, integrity, and intelligence. The original obituary:In Memorium | The Madonna House | Neptune, New Jersey

    23 min

  3. 07/27/2024

    003: Should some dreams die?

    I've spent so much time, energy, and attention on trying to avoid loneliness. Was it a dream or a fixation on the wrong solution?

    13 min

  4. 07/18/2024

    002: Walking off the map

    Today I walked off the map in Seattle. Getting lost has always helped me strip away my feeling of certainty and with it so many presumptions and false assurances.

    16 min

  5. 07/16/2024

    001 : Happiness isn't the point

    I once snapped at someone for saying that the point of life is being happy.  Not my proudest moment, but my mind hasn't changed.

    10 min
  • 5 Episodes

About

At some point over the past ten years—somewhere in the midst of career changes, cancer, COVID, and kidnappings—I lost the thread. Everything has stopped making sense. Entirely. But, for once, I'm actually not worried about it—which is vaguely disconcerting. This is an honest attempt at recounting as I let the days drip off me (for however many there are left, at least). Let's hum into the void. It's okay if we forgot the words; no one really knew them anyway.

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