Once upon a time I was in the process of packing for a cross-country trip from San Francisco to my native New Jersey with my friend, Ignatious. I had lived in San Francisco for two wonderful years, but since my stock options had mercilessly fallen to the state of near non-existance, I was left with no choice but to bum around Europe for eight months. I said my teary goodbyes, packed up my crap, and set off across the US to ready myself for the long road ahead.

Because I am such an altruistic person, I decided I should let my friends and family in on the fun, allowing them the opportunity to live vicariously through my romantic and exciting adventures of Heavy Drinking across the pond. I would write them timely updates of my travels, my heart-felt self-discovery, my flirtations with imminent disaster. They, too, could sleep on a flea-ridden mattress in a dingy hostel, I thought, selflessly. And thus, Poeks Travelogue was born.

Of course, that time has come and gone, and now I am sitting in the computer room of my parents' house in New Jersey   , willing January to arrive, so I can go back to school   wishing school was over already   pondering my next move   getting ready to head back to SF   living the high-life in SF   living as a low-life in NJ   made in Manhattan   in Brooklyn   in NJ IN BROOKLYN AND WITH GOD AS MY WITNESS THAT'S WHERE I'LL STAY! Still, one can revel in my carefree exploits of European and Asian culture, marvel at my amazing Photoshop abilities, and follow my current, more humdrum life. It's all here, you see, in this tremendous endeavour of narcissistic indulgence.