ALBANIA. WHO KNEW? APPARENTLY, EVERYONE ELSE.
As I finally open the doors to THE RESET, I’m surrounded by burnt tourists and the stink of after sun is thick in the A.C… Brits abroad. Bliss.
Be careful what you wish for…
About seven days ago I hit publish on a piece I’d written to make myself laugh. Farting my thoughts into the keyboard with reckless abandon. Today, you’re reading those thoughts. You, in your infinite wisdom have taken the time out of your day to read THE RESET. Shit.
It was all good just a week ago…
Have you ever hosted a little get together? The kind with a considered list of invitees made up of her with vibes, skipping him with the drama. The kind of night in with charcuteries and the good plates.
Ever caught yourself in that moment of Limbo while waiting for the first person to arrive and that sliver of doubt creeps in?
You’re stood alone in the lounge wearing a stupid shirt, second guessing the playlist, sliding Pringles onto a plate like a punk…
Then they arrive. A few at first, then a few more and you allow yourself that sweet relief because you did it. They turned up…
But there’s a lot of ‘plus ones’, people you don’t know, the ones who came with people and they can’t be here for you right? They’re just here to judge the drapes...
That feeling.
It was all good just a week ago.
With so many of you reaching out, I’m honestly in love with whatever this is becoming. So, thank you for turning up, ensuring the Pringles and the playlist haven’t gone to waste.
Going forward, I’ll be posting articles every Thursday and a longer piece every Sunday for paid subscribers.
Regardless, today - I had to say thank you.
You being here so soon means I’m not doing the writing equivalent of street-dancing alone in a studio to no beat. Shouting “BOOM-KAT” as I hit choreography to the music in my head, watched only by my reflection in the wall length mirror.
Thank you for saving me from boyband reject hell.
Pulling open doors to THE RESET could’ve happened at another time. Maybe should have. It’s my birthday, I’m abroad and I keep checking my phone. Who doesn’t hate the ‘glued to the phone’ guy. He’s a dick. Usually wearing Tods. Thankfully I’m not draped in linen neutrals, doing up quiet luxury and boring anyone who’ll listen to what I’m seeing in ‘the markets’…
I’m on my way home. It’s minutes from boarding and travellers have gathered at the gate. The gods have spoken as I’m surrounded by my favourite thing about flying – the Airport terminal greatest hits.
The tight faced man whose barber did him dirty. The football shirt Londoner giving ‘bloke core’ unironically. The strong back with a Lion tattoo on his calf. The burnt girl from Manny who might be black, might be tan. The blond braids are a curve ball… She sneaky. Either way, she’s fucking burnt.
The screaming monster bullying their parents with a tantrum and full nappy one-two punch. The mother with too much to say to an enduring husband. He’s listening, but with a thousand-yard stare, ready to risk it all for the pretty and polite cashier in krispy kreme… the terminal never disappoints.
A few days ago, I was on the beach. No, I’m not trying to sound smug; I was sunning myself, but I was actually thinking of you, thinking how much I’m about to risk it all for you… Kinda.
So, I recorded this. This is a very windy, but needed intermission. This is the first OVERDUB.
And so, it begins. Even without my camera... I made a point of stopping if what I saw struck me, and Albania found a way of showing up again and again. She pretty.
Apparently, a new decade is a blank page, so at 42 I’m hardly on the start line. My 40th really was my reset, and it came with a long ass list of promises I made to myself…. But that’s a story for another time. It’s all a work in progress and somehow, I’m getting it done rather than pretending the list doesn’t exist.
Take. More. Photos.
See you on Thursday for this week’s first of two articles.
Reg
Exceptional photography!
Brace yourself, Reggie - I’m afraid you’ve gained a follower who cannot help but engage entirely with long form that captivates her!
First of all, happy belated birthday! How beautifully and expressive your descriptions are, of the sights and sounds of tourist Albania. Your writing is comically novel-esque and it’s refreshing to read unfiltered (and intrusive?) thoughts! “She’s fucking burnt” made me snort - not the cute kind. When I first heard Albania was open to melanin, I too was shocked! But she is indeed, very pretty, and the moments you’ve captured in the photos here encapsulate that entirely. My personal favourite is the stoned wall which for the longest time I thought was ground, until I opened my eyes. I find it beautiful that each stone is uneven, no two will ever be identical. It really is the most mundane things that remind you just how wondrous the Earth is, down to the microscopic. (I could analyse every picture, but for the sake of comment length etiquette, I’ll stick to the one).
Have to say, it was lovely to hear your voice in the overdub. It felt special and, dare I say… intimate. For a moment I forgot that we, in fact, do not know one another personally, and that was not a voicenote sent to my WhatsApp. If ever you need encouragement to press record…
As for The Reset, it’s lovely to see you in this new era of nurturing the authentic creativity that is at your core, and lovely to watch you embrace these new (or rather, old) long forms of media in a world where short form prevails and attention spans do not! I know you mentioned resetting 2 years ago, and it’s beautiful how life develops isn’t it? How every process we experience as humans ebs and flows; we take one little step at a time, and before we know it, 2 years have passed and we are doing the things we said we would! The Reset resonates with me as I am in a similar place of allowing myself to creatively exist in my purest, most authentic form, ignoring the standardised structure. As a singer-songwriter, this is of course not the most astute way forward. Alas, my inner artist insists on her creative integrity upheld.
So whilst you are certainly not dancing in the mirror alone, remember that even if you were, and if you ever do feel as though you are, there are thousands of us dancing a similar routine in separate dance studios all over planet Earth… We just can’t all see each other!
In the meantime, I will continue to show up (provided there are Pringles) to vibe to the playlist, even if the song selection becomes questionable halfway through the night! That being said, here’s a question for you - what songs are on the playlist for the metaphorical charcuterie night? I am curious!
Looking forward to the next post Reggie! Don’t worry, my essay-like comments are few and far between :)