First, an introspection; I’m clearly forgetting that this Substack is originally intended as an extension of ChaoticanWriter. Its a new platform, but I’m realizing the halls are empty at this early juncture… say for view numbers on a stat page. Like with most starts, I cant help but feel a little low, as I sort of yearn for it to become a more prominent platform and something to have a community around. Nono! No time to be sobby! Its just a loooow vibe kind of day!

So, mucking around with it, and trying to figure out how to provide value while also remaining true to my interests is a challenge. To think I started this year thinking I would build it into a small publication, and it would be separate from myself. It’s still the goal, but I’m also realizing how much certain orgs and institutions live and breathe off of one person holding up the weight.

… but whose to say that cant still be the goal, and perhaps I borrow the Substack space for the continuation of the travel blog. Its supposed to be a “Behind the scenes” thing anyhow.

…

This pondering, and many more like it encompassed a large chunk of my third day.

…

The night before, I decided to depart from the St. Louis AirBnB and head to the bars right next door. It was Saturday night, so why not check out the nightlife? Eh?

Fucking boring.

Not for the sake of objectivity; rather, I had nothing to do but drink. No gathering of sociable open people, a bunch of bros crowding bars, and… yknow what? I’m just not feeling fighting for the attention of intoxicated, baseball cap wearing dudes in their 20’s who probably have nothing interesting to say.

Some places are singles bars. Some places are bars you bring another single to. Some places are crowded with dudes. Some places single you as the outsider. … I’m tired, I’m aching, I’m two beers in, its loud and obnoxious, I’m not feeling initiated, and neither is it worth being initiated. Fuck this place. I’m going to bed.

The actual third day was slow.

I did all of the editing for the video, and recorded the last part to send it to Youtube.

Its always nervous sending anything up; a Youtube video, a Twitch stream go-live, a written piece. You get dizzy seeing views trickle in by the single digits, perhaps double. It isn’t the influencer's life, but they can certainly have a way of making the world around them dimmer by taking up all of the glow. Even just for daily showcasing as an individual, expectations are higher, and the rewards are slimmer than ever before. A Millennial and Gen Z identity crisis via social media and content creation.

I might do a video in the future about the Dead Internet Theory; something I dont consign to, but I found it fascinating to read about.

So, in fact, I spent the first half depressed. Not going to lie.

Even if it was quality content, and even if select people would engage with it, its a familiar low that seems to be practiced behavior. Also, I was physically aching and unknowing what to do in STL.

It was afternoon by the time I manage to control my executive dysfunction enough to head to a place for food or coffee.

Enter Shameless Grounds, the queer coffee shop in the midst of real STL. As a proud loving ally with a cis upbringing, a shapeshifter of unknown dimensions, and never fully labeled in affirmation, fluidity, or otherwise,… I felt both at home and an imposter.

I feel everyone who identifies as queer or LGBTQIA+ in some way understands the apprehension of personal unknowing and the search for self. Perhaps that is just a qualifier of my own definition. … It doesn’t matter.

I’m here to vibe. I’m here to be communal. Let me drink my coffee in a loving space. Let me be present while I sit and feel turbulent things about life.

After recovery, I decided to roll to the Laumeier Sculpture Park, which solidly displayed some lively oddities which just had to be captured in my pokeball of a DSLR.

Eyeball. Teardrop. Chairs with branches. Thingamajig. Funny face in the floor. Winged lady split in half. Grass. Trees. Air. Coffee.

I’m feeling better.

Of course, now the foodie in me is back, so I’m waffling on the next place to go. I decide that Googling the “Top Place To Eat in St. Louis” is a corporate trap. A bunch of high class restaurants charging for more than the food is worth during a time of inflation.

Let me check out Imos Pizza; the local pizza franchise. Provel cheese on pizza is as culturally St. Louis as I need to get. Its people’s food!

Alright. I’ll admit it.

My next stop was Blueberry Hill, but not because I was searching for “Famous Blues Location”. I was looking at singles bars.

It wasn’t that I was even looking for anything in particular; I wanted a space to feel connected. Thats the theme today; connection. Even if my mouth wont run, and the words wont come out, I want to be part of the backdrop of STL proper.

Lies I say! This was not my photo; I grabbed it from the internet because I didn’t want to get up from the bar. (the rest you might have seen from me are mine)

So, I was treated again by a fateful decision. A Chuck Barry Memorium, with an actual guitar of his. Multiple displays of collectibles. Tons of paraphernalia.

Thats what I want. A viiiiiiiiibe. Just let me be part of the places I visit, like a person in a famous painting, not doing anything but just being in a place and time, absorbing and being there like I belong. Like I was always there to begin with, while actually being a roaming wanderer. The viewer of the painting doesnt need to know.

Of course, if the viewer of the painting compared other paintings and set up a conspiracy theory about a time lord like that one episode of Doctor Who, I wouldn’t mind. I’m a transient being!

I stroll the streets of the loop, and migrate to Mission Taco for a couple, and then fumble over losing my debit card (I lost it at Blueberry Hill. Its back now.).

I roll back to the AirBnB, prep all my things for the early morning, and set an alarm for 3AM.

No… 4AM.

… Naw. … 5:30AM.

I must get to Carbondale early. The full solar eclipse awaits.

… Which will happen in the afternoon.

Hmm. Lets stick to 5:30AM.