wildyouth co.

Wild Youth Co. is a year-long writing project bringing together a growing collection of mostly true stories from almost honest people. www.wildyouth.co

[wildyouthcollective]

It’s getting to be spring here in New York.

[wildyouthcollective]

LETTER FOURTEEN

Dear Friend

Screw you! Here I am freezing my goddamn balls off in my jankety old house and you’re living my dream in a cabin in the woods. I know you know that the scene you described is my own personal heaven. Seriously though, I really enjoyed your last letter. It was lovely and made me incredibly jealous. All I want in this life is to be happy and to have a woodstove.

You know I’ve never been skiing? I do own a pair of snowshoes though, so I feel like that more than earns me some Canadian clout. I’d love to go though. One of these days.

So you want to know my daily routine? I’ve always found it funny how interesting other people’s routines are. I think it makes us feel close to people, knowing about their lives. I once read an article on Joan Didion’s packing list for short trips. I loved it! I had her list printed out and taped to the inside of my closet door back in Toronto.

I hate to let you down, but my daily routine is very dull:

I wake up between 7am and 9am, depending on the day.

I have a few cups of coffee.

I make my bed. Hotel corners and everything.

I eat breakfast.

If I have class, I go to class; if not, I usually try to get something productive done in the morning, because I find it way harder to work after 4pm.

I eat lunch around 1pm

I eat again around 5pm.

I go to the gym at night, fairly late, after the crowds have cleared out. Any time after 9:30pm. (Sometimes I go in the morning, if I’m up really early).

I usually eat one last time when I get home, because I’m a growing boy.

I get the coffee ready for the next day and set the timer on the coffee-machine so it turns on automatically when I wake up.

I go to bed.

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[wildyouthcollective]

LETTER TWLEVE (AND A HALF)

Dear Sally-Boy

I am sorry for breaking the sequence, again, but I’m bored and hungry and writing was all I could do to distract myself.

I’m writing from the waiting area at Newark Liberty International Airport, a terrible airport which I have found myself stuck in too many times in the past six months. When I was a much younger man, flying was exciting. That phase of my life has passed. Now I see it as just a hassle.

There is free coffee here! That’s something at least. What I’d really like is some breakfast. I have a horrible fear every time I fly of being late and missing my plane—and last time I flew back to Canada I very nearly did!—so I am here super early. I packed last night and left my house at just passed 4AM this morning.  The trek to Newark is long and dull: take 1-Train South from 225th to Penn Station (22 stops), then transfer to a train (actual real train, above ground——tremendously exciting!), take that to the airport (third station), then switch to their monorail thing called the AirTrain and take that to the terminal. Takes like an hour and thirty minutes. From there it’s just baggage check and security. At a good time, you can make it through both in under five minutes. At a busy time it can be upwards of two hours. This tremendous uncertainty, which I feel the need to call The Airport Security Uncertainty Principle (ASUP), is why I left my house at 4AM and now find myself sitting in a dull lounge area surrounded by frosted glass partitions and navy walls, and in desperate need of a breakfast sandwich. In my eagerness to get to the airport I skipped breakfast. I am a fool. Hindsight is a bitch. I will not make this mistake again.

There is a little restaurant here, in the waiting area near gate B51. It’s called something tacky—I am honestly too lazy to walk the thirty feet to go check—Ye Olde Pub or something like that. It’s run, or at least sponsored by Hendrick's Gin, and it’s attempting a faux English pub feel. However, that feeling is impossible to ever truly achieve in a airport. Think of it like trying to set up a pub in a food court; you just can’t do it. They have breakfast. “Full English Breakfast” it’s called; includes eggs, “Corn Husk Smoked Bacon”, fried tomatoes, and beans……….$12. While I do love all the things listed, I do not trust a faux English pub in an American airport in New Jersey that uses paper plates (thick ones, but still), to make a meal worth $12.

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[wildyouthcollective]

LETTER THIRTEEN

Dear Henry,

I can’t believe you were in Toronto. I found myself asking if I were reading a long lost letter, written in December or something. That’s great though. Last minute travelling has one serious advantage: you can minimize your travelling stress to the day or two before departure. And, you can take people by surprise (guess that’s two advantages, but screw you! Only I’m allowed to break my own rules.). Your fam must’ve been happy to have you back.

This morning I went for a ski. I took the wax out, gave it a whiff. The strong musk of whale blubber filled my nostrils. I heated my flatiron on the stove while I sipped from my coffee. After melting the wax down the ski length, I spread it evenly from tip to tail with the iron. Repeat process for ski #2. I went to the kitchen, prepared a sandwich (sliced onion, two thick slices of bread, wrapped in—you guessed it—wax paper). while the wax cooled. When I came back, I scraped the excess wax off, then brushed it down. I gave it another whiff. Mm. Just the way I like it.

The sun wasn’t up, but the deep-blue predawn lit my way. I glided through the winter freeze. My skis sang against the snow. The pine boughs were weighed down with snow, which had layered over everything. Perfect sound proofing. Way better than two inches of foam. I took out my .22 caliber rifle. I pulled back the bolt, confirming the rifle to be loaded. “Time for breakfast,” I said, under my breath.

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[wildyouthcollective]

February 12, 2016. Flight from New York to Toronto. (Shot on an old iphone)

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Some light snow in New York City Feb 5th, 2016. // #wearewild

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WILDYOUTH Co. // the first ten

10. / 9. / 8. / 7. / 6. / 5. / 4. / 3. / 2. / 1.

[wildyouthcollective]

It's too goddamn cold to write!

The furnace is busted in my place. I may die.

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[wildyouthcollective]

Banff, Canada

Banff, Canada

Vancouver, Canada (maybe)

Vancouver, Canada

San Francisco, California

San Francisco, California

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Almost home.

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Goodbye, Toronto.

[wildyouthcollective]

To everyone dealing with family today,

Merry Christmas and good luck.

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[wildyouthcollective]

There was something that I did really like about the trip. I can't remember why this existed or where it was, but somewhere in downtown Manhattan there was a building covered with enormous illuminated snowflakes. I'm talking huge snowflakes! In my memory, there were probably at least fifty of these giant blue and white light-up things, all stuck to the outside of some building. At age twelve I found them utterly captivating.

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Bought a christmas tree today || New York City