In 1897, H.G. Wells wrote the classic science fiction novel, The War of the Worlds. In 1938, an American nation largely ignorant of the original novel went into a full-blown panic when Orson Wells produced and broadcast a radio play interpretation of the original novel.
In that great tradition, I propose to take you, modern readers, on a strange journey.
Our story begins not on some far-off world. Not in Grovers Mill, New Jersey. Not even outside of my adopted hometown. Our story begins, gentle reader, at a local pub in Raleigh, North Carolina.
This is where it begins. The world is not coming to an end. I’m not starting some kind of macabre sex cult. I’m just having a beer, thinking about where haven’t we gone yet? Or, rather, where haven’t we been together?
I’m just a writer. A photographer. A traveler. And a bit of an oddball (yes, I’m autistic and I embrace that). I’d like to try to put all of these things together into something a little different than the textbook travel blog. And it’s definitely a nod back to some old, wonderful milestones in the creative space. I’d like to specifically call out geniuses like Truman Capote for trying something really new (at the time) with In Cold Blood. Also, the aforementioned Orson Wells for his radio play interpretation of War of the Worlds. And lastly, with no small amount of respect, I write this having been inspired by Robert Chambers‘ The King in Yellow and some of the follow-up derivative work by H.P. Lovecraft.
Some of what you read here on this blog will be the truth. And some of what you will read here going forward will be from another reality. Are you with me?