Julian Gerson

I'm Julian and I'm 28 years old. Trying to make some sense of the world around me. Thanks for reading.

lives lived small

A universal current swirls the waters of rejection.

hell's itch

How to describe eighteen hours of affliction?

narcissism, that rare commodity

Hannah Horvath wastes no time worrying about polar bears lonely on their shrinking glaciers.

middle-aged gyrations; or the version of the self we choose to share

Vastness can exist in words left unsaid.

the joy of camping alone in the rain

Only when the blood refuses to circulate can things begin to flow.

Belgian nausea, ad nauseam

Where to begin advertising Belgium's problems?

Southampton 1 - Newcastle 4, and the bloat of it all

The World Cup in Qatar looms.

what looms overhead

Powerlessness is silently vicious, calcifying itself further with each repeating cycle until it becomes self-fulfilling.

the cozy emptiness of YouTube fitness

On YouTube, every muscle is a glute - or could be.

a place, revered

Reverence, like a place, is almost always personal.

death and complicity in 1080p

Death, violent and visceral, has been placed closer to the peacetime public's eye than ever before.

drunk and flying high

Americans are eager for the thrill of battle.

reflections from eighty-one days in motion

The road trip innately produces the conditions amenable to self-revelation.

the sagging weight of the South

The dense, verdant South is shadows, all shadows.

California, O California...land of many uses

The imbalance in the abundant allocation verges closer to sin in this great, imperial state.

skirting along the coast

Voyaging down the coast ushers in a strange feeling of the peripheral.

wyoming, wyoming, wyoming

It's Wyoming! You gotta eat the beef!

sadness, in motion

I present to you sadness, in all its different disguises.

give me all the discomfort you've got

On a trip like this, vulnerability begins to feel less aspirational and more like a necessity.

contemplating September

The urgency of dusk compels you to think, lest you be plunged into darkness.

where have all the heroes gone?

The more time you spend on the road, the more clearly you see.

chasing romance

When nothing is new, the new feels impossible.

finding virtue in retreat

Retreat scythes away the extraneous and the superficial, allowing for that rarest of things: clarity.

the beauty in the mundane

A year of blankness has made us more capable of recognizing beauty.

I have no idea who I am anymore and TikTok knows it

Identity is a fickle thing, prone to impetuous retreat like a second-guessing tide.