This is one of the most polarizing and hauntingly beautiful films I have ever seen. A movie so emotionally packed that audiences promptly fall into one of two camps: the hopeless romantics, absolutely smitten or the average consumer, completely repulsed.
On the art of journaling, note taking, and recording the world around you. These are my favorite notebooks for daily musings and painting.
I’m going to be extremely honest in this one…
It all began in the Spring of 2011 when the East caught fire and revolution spread across North Africa and the Middle East. Something in that moment struck a chord and I before I knew it, I was on a one-way flight to Morocco.
There I nurtured a desire to understand our world and a burning passion, not only to see and share in the rich complexities of life but to explore our past in hopes of answering such questions as, How did we get here? and, Where are we headed?
Since then I’ve traveled across the regions of Arabia, Europe, and the United States working as an archaeologist, journalist, ditch digger, butcher, cheesemonger, and a variety of odd jobs.
Now returned I’m seeking a formal education at the local community college in hopes of having a greater impact on our world.
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Travel, adventure, science, paleontology, archaeology, eat, sleep, repeat. Help me reach my goal and return to college and complete my education! To bring passion to the generation of tomorrow and inspire youth today.
There comes a point in every person’s life where one’s identity comes into play. Questions like, Who am I? and for some the deeply moving, What am I?
Not only provocative but deeply
1. The Road by Cormac McCarthy
The Road follows a father and son, journeying together for many months across a desolate, post-apocalyptic landscape, some years after a great, unexplained disaster. Civilisation has been destroyed, and most species have become extinct. The sun is obscured by deep, dark clouds and plants don’t grow. Humanity consists largely of groups of cannibals, their food-source captives, and refugee-travellers who scavenge for food. Ash covers everything; it is in the atmosphere, it obscures the sun and moon, and the two travellers breathe through improvised masks.
The boy’s mother was overwhelmed by the desperate and hopeless situation and has committed suicide some time before the story begins. Her explanation, offered was that they all would be raped, killed and eaten, and that there was no hope left for a different fate. The father is skilled with firearms and knowledgeable about machinery, woodcraft, and human biology…
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"So from populist demagogues, we will learn the indispensability of democracy. And from isolationists, we will learn the need for global solidarity. And from tribalists, we will learn the beauty of cosmopolitanism and the beauty of diversity."
In the Spring. Sun Blazing, the Red Sea, still, cool with Spring. I sit over Cafe Salaam, coffee, freshly roasted with cardamom and a handful of roasted nuts, wedged between an abundance of potted sage and a crumbling banister. This is where I sketched one of my favorite pieces of art. just on the Red Sea in Jordan, working on my Novel. q
Hello my dear friends! It has been a long time. Many roads, many new travels behind me, I look forward to catching up soon --sooner than later, I hope 😉 I would love for you to take a look at my newest project, Roama: Stories of Humanity. a campaign to fund a new website, an interactive … Continue reading When Your House Floods… Look Upon Horizons. And, My Newest Project, Roama: Stories of Humanity (Crowdsourcing for Change | Patreon & GoFundMe)
I will be confident -- not sad sap, sipping quietly in corner bar. I will be, act, speak with intention. I will be finished, will shop my novel.
What an immense pleasure it was joining fellow author Maria Rochelle in what became quite a revealing conversation… A discussion on travel, literature, writing, life, love and losing oneself in the beautiful madness of all things.
It was 2012. While the rest of humanity prepared for the Mayan Apocalypse, I was in the process of selling off ALL my belongings, the profits of which went towards a one-way ticket to Africa and a few months of vagabonding to, you know, "figure out my life." While researching my first stop --a little … Continue reading How To Tagine: Your Recipe to Taste, See, & Smell Morocco. Feat. The Ethnic Spoon.
It was during my long and dusty sojourn in the Middle East, wandering collapsed, ruined villages, haggling through ancient markets that I first encountered the yemeni, or Turkish slipper. Now, i'm not the most fashion-driven or even fashionable guy, but the effortless, dare I say, timeless cool. Travelblogger and Novelist, Nicholas Andriani takes on fashion and time honored crafts from the ancient villages of Istanbul to Manhattan New York.
Bohemian nights in Valencia where the gypsies shred violins into the coming dark "Rhythmic swells reverberate trough my lungs. The back streets of Valencia. Back street Europe. Romani enclaves and gypsy parts of town. We'll sit here in the Plaça de la Virgen with our stiff sangria, smartly bashful in red-faced delerium. For it is Spring and the blossoms have begun to sing. A nod to blanco nerium" A poem to the City of Oranges. An Open Love Letter to the City of Valencia, Spain.
Don't be victimized by the culture of fear. Our planet is waiting to be explored, to reveal it's secrets to you, to me, to any who dare ask, it will expose you to the raw truths of life. To the quarks of distant cultures and alien tongues. To disgusting foods and delicious cuisines, to dangerous and countless blessings. Nicholas Andriani's personal essay on travel, adventure, and taking the Road Less Traveled whether that means hitting the Sahara or striking up a conversation in a coffee shop. It's all an adventure.
Did you know that every week I draw a name from my mailing list and send out a personalized gift? Sign up and you could be next. Who knows, if i'm in Morocco maybe i'll send you a crystal from the Sahara. If in California, a shell. Or if i'm home in my lonely Middle West i'll send you a book based on our friendship. Or some local chocolates. Mhmmm.. chocolate. So, what are you waiting for?
The Bosphorus splits Istanbul in two parts. A rift in the madness of Europe and Asia, drifting between bodies of fresh and salt water cooling the heated passion of a most ancient urban jungle. The hot, hot, heat of human movement generates organized chaos as this great strait, this rift, cushions the blow, keeping this … Continue reading Sketching Sights: Istanbul, City on the Edge (Art. Travel. Writing. Islam. Architecture)
You know how it goes:] the blustery mornings. Watery eyed and minus-7. The frozen pipes and snowed in nights. The red faced wind burns. But look at that, the stars have never been so sharp --outlined in the thin air like diamonds under keen inspection.
Confessions of an Antisocial Writer. Cafes? Don't do it. For he love of all things Didion! I mean, I get it, there is this undeniable sex appeal. This intrique: scattering your notes across that old bistro set, the heady demitasse begging for your lips: what's the WiFi code? Nah, I write longhand.
I could spend a lifetime, drunken on the sea breeze, lost among these islands of Minotaurs and Men.
I'm not here to pretend to be some guru or act like I know anymore than you do because, believe me, the older I get, the less I know. Funny how that works when the world is running wild with "twenty-somethings" peddling Nirvana and life-coaching: really just give me $99 and I promise you'll feel better. Go ahead, try it.