Big Al
Project

“Thanks for keeping things normal.” Said the drinker to the guitarist. They were both long-term Flagstaff residents, and they both loved The Annex Cocktail Lounge. It served them drinks and a moment to forget about all there was. Both were born and raised here, moved away, and like salmon, made their inevitable trek back home. Why do salmon swim upstream when they are old and tired? I reckon they have no choice. “It is very good to see you.” Replies the guitarist in his ‘my

Intense sensory exploration is how I interact with the world. A full commitment of emotion to my lover, mother, and brother. Devotion to the craft, I must eat, sleep, breathe them. I do or do not, there is no try. My dedication, convictions, and unwavering trajectory to the stars above allows me to mauver through life not only in pure intention, but with ruthless success. I see what I want and I take it, no matter if my eyes fall upon the rational or the absurd. My vision is

Icarus was far above the sea and rocks and all that ties man to the slave of the land. He was now engulfed in glory far above the known limits of mankind. Was this to surprise him? He was the son of the brightest architect in the world, and he was soon to take over the throne of his father. What was left to conquer but the impossible? His skin broiled, and while not yet on fire, his heart certainly was, as it always had been. This is what made him different. He had a heart th

We find ourselves at a crossroads of nothing. The road appears to go on forever, but is there a road? A meager trail of crumbs, and no more than Wonder Bread. Our fellow man grovels upon each step, cherishing the bread as if there were a single ounce of substance to be consumed. Grovelers are ever lost, poor souls. In delusion, these crumbs turn to asphalt in which we pave our road to Hell. But build we must, for our legacy must live on! Pyramids, books, genocides, stone face

The masculine urge to grab the bull by the nose and skewer him with my bare hands. Men love to accomplish tasks such as slaying dragons, forging our path as the master of the universe, or beating down swarms of enemies with a single blow. Adversity is nothing in the blind confidence and obsession of a young man. However, it is the wise old sage guiding the tribe towards safety and longevity. Someone must slay the beast, but it is wisdom that maintains harmony in the universe.

I believe in Giants. Every child dreams of ascending a bean pole into the clouds, but it is around the death of Santa Clause do we realize that we will more than likely never shake in our boots to a formidable Fee-fi-fo-fum. I dropped this notion with the rest of my peers, but my belief never dissolved, it simply shifted. I began to idolize false profits and embrace the lies of the meek. I saw Giants everywhere, as if I were a lone Lilliput lost in a world of Gulliver’s. Not

As humans, or more exactly, as skiers, we ask ourselves, ‘What is next?’ I have searched the world for the holy resort; chasing huge lines at Telluride, discovering Mount Baker magic, hard ripping at Jay, or blowing bowls in Gulmarg’s side country. Like many semi-retired ski bums, I no longer desire, or can, chase the goals of younger years. I finally admit that I will (probably) never land a backflip, and I should stick to small rails. But there is nothing to worry about, th

My distain for Harry Potter stems from the bleak smear of my childhood. Why was he chosen while I suffered? A misfit devoid of agency is taken by magic in which many boys have squandered their lives hoping for. Harry was delivered to the doors of fortune by the radical call of a hat; how does a novice of the universe find himself up to bat in big league? This story has taken nothing from me, and is a quintessential childhood read, so why do I hate Harry? Can’t I ever root for

I was told that you cannot find yourself when traveling, but you can only leave little pieces of yourself behind. A lonesome truth to some, those aimlessly drifting, however I find solace in a world that expects nothing of me. Moments and emotions are scattered, the bright and happy, the melancholy and sad. Life’s a balance, it would be foolish to tip the scales and tempt fate. Us introverts crave isolation and require detachment to nourish our souls. During my childhood I us

Rough around the edges are the Bieszczady Mountains and their inhabitance. After the Southeast corner of Poland was demolished during World War II, nature reclaimed the land and a healthy population of brown bears, wolves, and all good signs of life has emerged. In a land so full of life, people have begun to return. They are returning slowly, and with a new respect for the wilderness. So here we are, two Americans romping around the wild, wild east. Why are we here when we c

The Poland pursuit of modernization through westernization needs investigation. I am boots on ground in Warsaw, and what I have discovered is groundbreaking. They have joined the capitalist rats on their march through hell in their global financial crusade. The grass roots movement is small but momentous. Polo Ralph Lauren patches are worn upon the sleeves of the comrades in a sign of solidarity. Citizens are being beat to death by men masked in Louis Vuitton bandanas. The pe

It can’t be done. There are too many iterations, opinions, possibilities. We are smack dab in the middle of the ultra-light epidemic, and these new backpacks are driving me nuts. Mountaineering bags have devolved into tubes with a few straps to hang your panties on. Water bottle pouches the size of your tampon. How about that, granola boy? There is no issue with UL trekking if your mother follows you in her sprinter van full of baby wipes and coconut water or if your Sherpa

I despise Tik Tok and reels more than corporate jobs and the 9 to 5. I would rather collide my Subaru head on with an oil tanker than spend a single day in a cubical. I can reach the entirety of mankind from the palm of my pathetic little hand, joy to the world! Record one video a day you say, one itsy bitsy video. It won’t kill you, and at least it’s not as bad as everyone’s crippling social media addiction that consumes the first hour (at least) of every single fucking morn

The glory of true love, peace to all, and I want to see the whole world burn. It is the quiet shadow world that intrigues me, the dark places that sit in my soul. I have a difficult time with joyful moments, for they come so easy, and then I need more. There is no end to the craving, I could consume the entire earth and still feel my tummy rumble. I am the very hungriest caterpillar, and I am never happy. It is the singularity of this idea that enraptures me, as if that small

Death below and life above. Millions of correct decisions, then judgement slips. The equalizer of man reaches from beneath and fastens his sinister claws around my ankle. Heaven, once so close, sets like a fiery star. Rules remain the same everywhere, keep moving forward and do not fall. The falling irony is you must be presently attuned to avoid it, but you can never think of it. To see is to do. Many world class climbers have been struck down by the glacial peaks of the No

I am the lowest common denominator. In this moment of singularity, in which all are, I am driving drunk. Headed South bound on BC-99, I do not plan on making it to the US border. It was not through an accumulation of these of these singularities did I get here, but one. This instant of time was so brief I cannot pinpoint it precisely. I do know that it happened, and that is what matters. Can one kill themselves if in the instant of the action, it is no longer? The act is i

I woke in fright to the intro riff of Kickstart My Heart. It is 2:30 in the morning and the last thing I want to do is to put crampons on my frozen boots and stumble around like a March bear. My climbing partner is fast asleep, and I do all in my power not to rip him out of dream land to join me in my cold suffering. He may as well get some more shut eye while I dick around with my gear. Is that pitter patter rain? In secret delight, anything for more sleep, I toss on my puff

The house is on fire, and I need to get the hell out. There is no plan or time, motion is of primary importance. Goals must be of rapid motion and swift execution. Life changes fast but I will be faster. My plan to “get in shape” this year will fail unless I strike it with such ferocity my neighbors flip shit and their ill trained pit bull runs for cover. Next my new job, house payments, kids, parent’s death, and finally the nail, my all-consuming business venture. I never ha

Dreams drift into expectations, expectations into another whipping post to flog myself on. My writing has held true for 61 short weeks. I understand the normality of my human folly and furthermore, it was intentional. One late day to remind me of the beautiful rock I have conjured into my existence, but no sooner did I find refuge on this rock did I notice the island beyond. My little rock is no longer enough, and I hate myself for achieving such puny dreams. Back to the vast

My love for birdwatching found me in the impoverished neighborhood of Warrendale, West Detroit. I Ubered to Rouge Park, a local birding spot. My reddit research foretold of a colony of Great Blue Herons, and I, came for the gold rush. Surrounded by trailer parks and abandoned homes, I asked my driver if I would be safe here. He hesitated, and responding distractedly, “You will be fine. Just mind your own business.” The conversation fell to weather, and in his distracted tone