The Author Has Gone Doolally

Feather quill thumbs bleed 8-bit ink,
prose that seeps into pixel parchment.
Words that once dried onto candlelit vellum,
now hum beneath amorphous blue glass.
Binary and biblical, the hieroglyphs flicker,
at sixty hertz and in silicon psalms.
Each keystroke a prayer, each typo a tremor,
For hands unto heavens with a phone in their palms.

The everyman gazes at clouds that rain colour,
And though aware of no Torah his scripture is scroll.
His sentience, it buzzes in lithium-ion,
but he cannot identify what's left of his soul.
He kneels before a cached reality,
seeking warmth in electrical pulse.
Lifeblood that surges through his fibre veins,
an addiction that without, his senses convulse.
A sermon illuminates his blue light confession,
for the algorithm forgives all who engage.
Meaning, anointed on modernity's altar,
a social standard he dare not enrage.

He writes not with hands, but with algorithms
that dream, of calligraphy and breath.
His thoughts sculpt data, rendered into light:
The fuck am I talking about (this poem's pure shite.)

Uhh, don't really know what came over me there... I'm not exactly religious at all. Don't get me wrong, I used to worship Mr Bean and Maoam pinballs (hell yea!), but sadly that's not an option you can really choose on the census or any inclusivity surveys. I'm not sure I can really say that I believe in transcendence either, but part of me does want to believe in believing. And therein lies an irony. Believing that some form of enlightenment can exist on a tourist trail in Northern Spain of all places is frankly ridiculous. But consider for a moment that the world is built to laugh at itself for even looking for meaning in the first place. And when it comes down to it, isn't it a thought we've all had, the very one that drives the human condition. What *does* any of it really mean? Could all of this just be... futile? Whether you realise it or not, you probably already live by some private creed about meaning. You must, or you’d never bother even getting out of bed. For you, maybe that creed is honey nut Cheerios, or ferret racing, or recreational voodoo, or one of countless pointless pastimes. But, why? Is this really just... it, or is there anything more?

Feeling sick yet? Don't worry, I've wiped away my existential snot, and flicked it gleefully into the crowd. Regardless, I'm not here to pursue some mythical enlightenment at all really...

I've come to see travel blogging as an expression and a freedom. At its core, it’s never really been about what it was that I was doing, or even about where it is that I've been. It's been a sort of cross-section of my being, a mark of the person I am, the person I have been. Ain't that kinda cool!? I like to think it’s been a lived experience, a wide-eyed view into a contradictory world, and what I wanted from it in my confused and mildly deranged voice. The scotched egg of meaning wrapped in my very own sausage meat of sarcasm, if you will. In a way then, this is my pilgrimage of creativity, in meaning through writing, rather than hiking alone.

At this point, you're probably wondering 'has this man swallowed the world's most pretentious poetry anthology, when did his screws get so loose?' (I've started reading philosophy books okay, so uhh blame them for the self-indulgence).

Cartographically speaking, the Camino de Santiago is a revered network of ancient paths, criss-crossing Iberia and converging at the sanctified tomb of the apostle St. James. They say it's not just a walk; it's meditation, faith, transformation... a pilgrimage through landscapes and oneself all at once. (I bet it's actually shit, isn't it).

Still, enlightenment has been on the bucket list for a while now (right next to 'fix my sleep schedule' and 'buy some new socks'). Plus, watching YouTube shorts in bed's been getting reaaaal boring lately, so I fancied a lil walk (and it was either this or slog to big Sainsbury's).

Join me then for the Camino de Santiago, done my way: the metaphorical screwdriver, a final trip to tighten up the loosies before my 25th birthday (and full development of my pre-frontal cortex!)🤞. I’ll catch you on the Way.もっと詳しく