We squinted in the night as the sky brightened to colors unseen and saw bands flittering on the bend of the sky. I wondered what ancient people thought witnessing this celestial, ephemeral event. I laid in the sand and felt like we were privy to a quiet, special moment meant only for us.

I want to write, but I never take the time. I feel creative when I lay in bed and obsess over where I want to be, but I do little to actualize my goals.

If I think on my life and ask the question, "What do I want to say I have done" ... I only have flat answers. The idea of selling my own photography seems far fetched in today's bullshit instagram world. And as much as I joke about starting a business selling wool clothing or artisanal hand roasted coffee, I doubt I'd ever actually do that.

So I'm left with just a couple things. The airbnb idea of just living off the home - raising a garden, having animals, kids, the farmhouse dream... or 2: writing. I used to be an okay writer. But it's not a craft that I continued to develop. I am stagnant in my words - repeating the same phrases and tropes and gimmicky nuances that I've always done. I don't have deep connections with the 'why' of my writing. But perhaps, like music, that is something that develops over time. One does not become a great musician simply by thinking about it. It consumes them.

But as per my usual over analysis, I first tell myself that I have to read more. So then I think to myself that I have to start by reading all the classics. How else can I write if I don't have all of the source material in my repertoire. Then I can rationalize that away slightly by thinking that I've seen enough movies and TV to inherently understand good story telling.

When I get back from this trip, I want to set myself to writing daily.

All my good ideas are inspired copies of other things. Is that true for other people? Do great writers or people with profound things to say come up with them on their own or do they 'stand on the shoulders of giants' and riff on top of them?

Do I need a total command of all things literary to write something great? There's a lot of shitty things out there - I feel like I have something worth saying.

I don't want to fall into the usual mechanics of romance and adventure. But I do feel that there is something in all of us that wants the protagonist to succeed. Pulling from the music analogy of a melody resolving. We yearn to have things work out. This is where the horror genre tries to be controversial.

Can I use this trip - the things I've seen to help inspire a story? I ask these grand questions about what I want to do with my life and others are simply concerned with literally having food to eat. We use that as a metaphor, but for them it's life. So what story could I develop that speaks to people in a situation like that as well as someone similar to myself?

• People want to achieve something
• People want to find love (or so they think)
• People want problems to resolve
• People want to expect the unexpected (see a twist coming if they know where to look)
• People want spectacular visuals
• People want to connect with characters and feel they're in their shoes

What is my personal mission statement? Why am I here taking up space?

People are literally falling to their death to take selfies. WTF.

Something that people can't understand, but they can believe. They can sense that there's some form of truth behind it. Consciousness - inherent in us all some passion or purpose. We all think that we will do something great. Splitting of paths - diverging of deja vu points in a timeline.

What are we getting out of this travel? Did we learn anything immutable?

I am writing this in a taxi on our way to boat to go to another island.

People merge into traffic here without looking. That's a metaphor for their lives. You can't spell metaphor without MEAT. Is it blind trust or ambivalence? Do they have an understanding of their mortality or do they simply not care because they have a religion that allows them to think that life after death is better?

What does a boring-ass American have to say that can resonate with these people? Do I care to? Can’t I just make something fun and non-academic? I should develop characters that are so honest and painful and funny that they feel hyper real. Caricatures that feel like someone you know. There are literally children on scooters racing around.

Going back to my earlier idea - there’s a CDC doctor who finds a genetic marker in people who commit horrific acts of violence. They are missing a part of their medulla oblongata. This piece deals with empathy and reasoning. So what does she do with this information?

Let’s take this story outside of our current universe. Outside of our own reality. Something similar, but more perfect. A place where people help instead of harm. What would humanity look like if we were all collaborative instead of every person for themselves? What does that say about individual passion and pursuits?

A guy just stopped traffic so 2 school girls could cross the street on their bikes. If people weren’t selfish, they would have already crossed. Our driver is acting like he doesn’t know where we are or how to drive. He keeps drifting into the other lane and looking around slowly. Very odd.

What makes us form who we are? Are we completely at the mercy of our parents? Does it happen later as teens? I keep waiting for some form of inspiration to overtake me - but actual inspiration probably just comes from work.

What could inspire all religions to STOP? What does humanity look like after religion? That’s sorta what happened in that Redford movie where he video taped the afterlife and half the world committed suicide to get there more quickly. But people who believe in religion tend to not believe scientific facts. So what could convince even them? If we “CURE” death - then does religion become irrelevant? What if the cure for death can also reverse death? And we discover from those who died that it was just black. That still wouldn’t convince anyone.

Premise: doctor invents a way to extract a consciousness. What does he do with this? People recreate to extend their lifeline or to help out or to have something to love. What happens when Death is no longer an issue - what do families look like? What does work mean? We are just animals - spending all of our time obsessing over food and sex. What if we no longer needed either of those things?

Two old men were playing chess on the beach. A guy behind them was watching intently eating a piece of corn on the cob. Another cab driver stood next to me watching them both intently. I analyzed the board and saw an opportunity for the man closer to me to move his bishop to put pressure on the other guy’s rook. His next move was to do exactly that. I commented, “That’s exactly what I would have done” and the corn on the cob man chuckled and the man playing reared back not realizing I was there and kinda mumbled something acknowledging me. The taxi driver that was standing there walked away. I was hoping to see the counter to the move, but the other guy was taking quite a while, so we walked away. I whistled at Meaghan who had walked off to the beach and she came and now we’re at a beach side coffee shop sitting across from an older family of 3 from (Germany?).

So what would the chess players think of my concept? What would they say if a doctor cured death?

Made breakfast in our flat - eggs, potatoes & onions with garlic. We took our time in preparing for our trip to the Louvre since they're were supposedly open late on Wednesdays. I created a make-shift curtain by folding a fringed green towel into the [saloon door] window and latched it shut. The steam from the shower outdid my task by making it all but impossible to see in from the opposite side of the courtyard.

The courtyard is white with metal roofs and red, rusted chimneys. Yesterday we saw a young Middle-eastern guy climb up said chimney at the behest of an unseen man. Presumably he broke into an adjoining apartment, or got un-locked out of his home [one or the other].

Took the metro to the Louvre, made a mistake and had to walk 5 minutes to a change. We stopped for espresso [read: les toilettes] at a very quaint family owned cafe. A family of three, they looked at us very auspiciously, but nevertheless gave us our deux cafes and let us use their restrooms. The restaurant was very clean with colorful light fixtures painted in flowers with colored light bulbs inside. We continued onward, where we learned from the man behind the information desk that you cannot interchange metro stops except at "correspondences" where you stay underground the entire time.

Walked to the supposed secret entrance to the Louve - the [hall] of lions. Sign read in French, English, Spanish, "This entrance is closed Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays." Had to join the masses in the main line at the pyramid. Went quite quickly - 10 minutes or so before we were inside.

The Louvre was a big let down. Too many people. Everyone photographing everything, then moving on. No one standing there staring at the art - absorbing the artists' work. Just trying to prove that they were there. The art was old and redundant. Must have seen 1,000 christ child & suckle teet with Mary. Another thousand depictions of the crucifixion. Nothing but tourist groups and teenage care-nothing's walking through the corridors with the record button held down. The Mona Lisa was a human zoo - a swell of circular enmasse, traveling through quicksand and photographing each step. The highlight was thrusting your child in front of the painting (that could only be seen at a maximum of 12' distance through wooden barrier and bullet proof glass) and cheesing a grin of satisfaction that you saw the thing on the brochure.

We walked for hours. Trying our best to remember the lectures in college. I felt more inspired by the African art than anything else, picture myself as Picasso, looking for some fresh interpretation. The museum was supposed to stay open late on Wednesdays, except for the particular day that we chose to visit. We missed an entire wing due to our lasse-faire breakfast.

Left the disappointment and went shopping. Bought some clothes at an underground mall after walking through a maze of a construction site. The construction will presumably bring part of the mall above ground as opposed to dwelling in the sewer as it currently does.

We emerged from the metro on the way home into what my imagination depicts some African market - where ivory and gorilla hands are traded with Samsung Galaxy S III and Prada stolen goods. Hundreds of people crowd the exit and yell in some foreign tongue. We remark on how at home hipsters would likely feel here.

We quickly head home and then back out for dinner. The Italian place we eyed was full and reservations only accepted at this late hour for dinner (9PM). We circle around the block, surveying our options. We end up at a small grocer, where the produce is kept along the exterior wall and a little man comes running out to print out a upc code weighing all of your picks.

Dinner at home over wine & Amelie - a very idealized depiction of the place we stay, Montmartre. Devoid of dog shit, trash, people, tourist groups, flash photography, stumbling old folks, 17 different languages. The building in which we stay looks identical to hers, with Green doors and centered, golden door knobs, a wooden spiral staircase and soft, yellow lighting. The steps are the same, steep and tall. But the air is bereft of a faint stench, mirrored by trash strewed across the street and sidewalk. The fear of someone walking up behind you... Picnicking in Sacre Coure, a young couple snorted a line of cocaine 10 feet in front of us, while Indian men peddled frozen bottles of Heineken. American couples sat far away and tore at wine bottles with their teeth, unaware of the insanity that surrounded them. We left early.

I lay in bed listening to Meaghan breathe heavily as I try and fall asleep with a million ideas racing through my head - wondering what this trip is about. Is this meant to be some learning mechanism that informs my career or purpose in life? I think through all the things that have happened over the past 2 weeks and am in awe of what is to come over the next 7. So much to learn and see and feel and smell. And I hope I can embrace it with open senses.