(trying to) Getting Ahead of Myself

My domestic life is a weird thing these days. An occasionally wonderful, often sweaty and sometimes downright devastating mess of days and weeks.

So today when I talked with Shannon at CFAP and she was optimistic about my chances of going to Kabul twice (once on my own dime), including August, I felt like I had been offered chance at a reset button.

Once off the phone I walked over to No Frills, listening to The Rural Alberta Advantage and shopped for produce and cereal in a stomach tightening sense of building glee. Fuckin' right: Glee.

A little while back I ran into a curator friend outside a pointless photo exhibit. Telling him about this project, he was excited about it, but said that he'd never enter the notion of going to Afstan, notr would he enter the notion of ever being inclined to do such a thing.

[This para has been edited. I have such a hard time describing the draw and need to do better than I did on the first edit]

The other Shannon and I have had many difficult conversations where I tried to explain the draw. During those times I'd sometimes offer generalities about the importance of war art or the desire to contribute something specific to the world - something I have a relatively unique perspective on. All these things are true. But at the same time, there's the other truth: How do you explain that you're drawn to your own mortality; to activating a life where choices are designed to increase danger; to finding a version of yourself on that precipice? Is that even the case? Maybe there's a part of me that doesn't want to be happy, and looks for ways to circumvent the (until recently) happy little domestic world I had a hand in creating. Or more likely, my desire is to have both: to balance the world and to find joy where it exists in relation to where it does not


I don't know the answers to these possibilities, but just like the scene in Donnie Darko, I feel like there's an invisible tapewormhole pulling me east.

So, here's the results of my shopping trip. If you care to, imagine me hovering my way through the supermarket, buying cranberry pop, Corn flakes and grapefruits, while my mind wonders how much "War Zone insurance" costs and whether there'll be breakfast cereal at the Camp Phoenix mess. 
In addition to the full fridge (full for me), note the photo of "The Kid". The most important part of my life.