New York, NYUSA
July 14, 2014
I spent most of my life convinced that the world consisted of little more than my house, the library, and the road between the two, and that all experiences beyond the mundanities of survival could be had only vicariously through the Novel Surrogate. Having wandered somewhat beyond those cozy borders, I've discovered many of the ecstasies and sorrows I'd imagined in my reading were available for first hand experience - since then, I've taken up exploration of all varieties (primarily alpine and marine, but recently urban as well), making and listening to music (I'll readily admit to being far better at the latter), writing, endlessly interrogating anyone who stands the remotest chance of being interesting, and still, from time to time, curling up with a good book.
The best adventure I've ever been on was a horrible, wet, wind-beaten, death-defying disaster of a kayaking expedition with a crew of seven restless, idealogical, drug-maddened disasters of youths. When we set out, we intended to make a loop around the Casco Bay of Southern Maine, camping on a different island each night, and returning to the mainland after about a week. This seemed an excellent plan until midafternoon of the third day, when eight foot rollers and stinging rain reduced us to huddled, shouting flotsam riding as powerless on the winds as the frothing sea. After hours of truly terrific, exhausting struggle driven by the desperate rush of a concrete prospect of death, we found ourselves alive and sopping on Whaleboat island. There, we spent two excellent days watching our clothes, tents, and food repeatedly get soaked, offer hope of drying, and get soaked again. In that companionable misery I became closer to those people than anyone I have met since.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer (I wanted to use all 1000 characters, but I didn't want carpal tunnel)
I'm in the City for a summer research internship at Mt. Sinai. During the school year, I can be found at Skidmore college, under a stack of bio textbooks, writing the my next brilliant semi-comedic novel, or smoking away the depression of the last.