Interlude: How To Make Every Day Feel Like A Sunday

Wedged somewhere between the immature relief of Friday, the familiar hangover of Saturday, and the persistent Monday blues, is the unique & beautiful solace of Sunday. Yes, Sunday is arguably the best day of the week for many reasons. It really is no surprise that so many musicians have written ballads dedicated to the first day of the week, but perhaps Etta James said it best when she said: “I want that Sunday kind of love

Learn about why every sunny morning is a Sunday morning, and listen to a new Apple Music playlist of all the best feel-good Sunday songs to help you recreate those warm weekend hues.

How To Make Every Day Feel Like A Sunday


You look so much better when you, you look so much better when you smile… I don’t want you to just be happy, because then you have to have something happening, I want you to have JOY

Aint no time like the present, I believe in blessings, I believe in you

This feels so good… got me in the mood, for love I don’t know your horoscope, but I know that you keep me close

For whatever reason, aside from the obvious gospel connections in a few of these lyrics, I’ve got some sort of feeling that each of these songs was written about a Sunday. Have you ever noticed how many songs, gospel or not, are about Sundays? It can’t just be a coincidence…

To some, Sunday morning was going to church with your grandma when you were growing up (play: “Sunday Candy“), while it was Sunday morning cartoons with siblings for others; To many, Sunday morning is the Flower Market, and Sunday night is football with pops; To me, every sunny morning is Sunday morning. It’s those mornings when you wake up without a thing on your mind aside from the sweat on your furrowed brows as your face smoothes out as it adjusts to the light, while the rays of the sun as they extend their reach into your room as if a gesture to pull you up to the window. Sunday is walking down the stairs, filled with feels akin to Christmas morning, as you lay eyes on the common areas of your home for what feels like the first time. It’s gained importance under the warm, golden glow – it’s a maximum capacity showing, packed with soul regardless of souls.

Sunday is calling up your friends (play: “Someone That Loves You“) to go to the Broadway Market: Fresh eggs, bread, bacon, and fruit. The champagne probably doesn’t fit the brunch budget but its okay because the pure passion radiating from the company surrounding you is enough to slip you into an intoxicated state of delirium, wherein everything wrong feels non-existent, and everything good feels so-damn good (play: “Feels So Good“).

Sunday is putting on a playlist of all of your favourite happy songs and dancing around the house with the curtains open. In the case that you don’t have a feel-good go-to of your own, you’re in luck because I’ve shared mine below (click here, or find me on Apple Music at @hospey) so that you can celebrate the day with Goldlink, Peter Cottontale, HONNE, and co.

With this at hand alongside the belief that Sunday is a mindset, every sunny morning can be a Sunday morning.

Playlist: [Every Sunny Morning Is A Sunday Morning]

[Transcribed from a journal entry on February 12th, 2019 – thanks for the book, Madi]

-A how to,
by hosp.

follow my adventures on the gram @hxspey, or on twitter @hospey!


Throwaways: London





75660003We have a big canal – well, we call it a river but I think its a canal.
I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t so big. I like feeling connected.








No words. Just pictures this time. But I hope these photos provide some insight into how each of the moments in my first 2 months in London felt in the best way possible, of course. If you care to keep up my journey as a fake photographer, check out my photography account, shotbyhosp.

That’s it for now. (words soon)


follow my adventures on the gram @hxspey, or on twitter @hospey!

How To Be A Good Storyteller

Your grandparents (or maybe even your own parents or older siblings) always told the best stories. It seemed as if their seemingly billions of years on the planet so far had all been encapsulated into an endless number of amazing and awing stories that made you second guess that you really knew anything about them at all.

There’s something to say about a person who has good stories to tell. Follow these steps and you too will be able to leave a lasting impression with any sub-urban legend that you decide to recite.


Here is how to become a good storyteller: 

You’re a creative. But you’re a special type of creative. You’re not special in the way that what you make is any more important than any other medium – perhaps even less special in that regards in the eyes of some – but special in the way that your medium is a little less obvious. And a lot less tangible.

You see, musicians make music, singers make songs, photographers take photos, writers write, but storytellers… well, storytellers simply just live.  They live to do things. Sometimes with purpose, and sometimes with luck, storytellers live to share their experiences; professional glorified dreamers you could say. (Disclaimer: these things are not mutually exclusive! Many photographers, writers, poets, etc ARE storytellers.)

Now that’s fine and all, but at the end when you’re old and you’re gray and you’ve been through it all, will you just automatically have these stories? Well, some people will. Some people naturally live more ‘exciting’ lives, simply by figuring out what their purpose was at an early enough age and having the resources to make the most of that execution. You? You will be the special case that has only one resource to coincide with your purpose: gumption.

You’ll be in a position where people question your intentions. You don’t seem to take anything seriously, and you’ll “waste” your time on acts of spontaneity. You’ll be able to see past the foreseeable “risks” on the top row of the eye chart called ‘life’ to focus on the fuzzy yet existent rewards on the very bottom row (‘1, or 2’). You’re not content with living vicariously. This is the mentality that will land you in some VIP section in some club in some city that you’ve only seen on TV, and the same mentality that will leave you wondering how so many people can be content celebrating with bottles that aren’t theirs. If it’s not your bottles, then you haven’t worked hard enough yet – but, you’ll have a story to tell about that night anyways.

Furthermore, you’ll be able to accept that it won’t always work out; sometimes the story won’t have a happy ending. You’ll accept that sometimes the hot air balloon ride doesn’t happen, and sometimes you don’t hit that game winner. But you accept that as many times as it doesn’t work out, it will work out. You enjoy the gamble. You not only trust yourself, but you trust the process – you understand that you can win the lottery more than the Philadelphia 76ers if you put yourself out there.

You understand that you can’t tell the story if you can’t be there to document it. If you weren’t there, did it really happen like that? You understand that if it didn’t happen like that, that you will from here on out have a responsibility to tell it how it did happen – with a few evolving add-ons that are a byproduct of time and excitement.

One day, you know that you too will be a grandparent and that you’ll hold the civic duty of capturing the young minds of kin and taint them with your minimally exaggerated stories that will be maximally exaggerated by their scale-less minds. For the time being though, you simply live and practice your medium with everyone who mistakenly asks to hear you tell the far-too-long-form version of what happened “that one time…”

Like the fresh prince that I think I am in my own mind, my life has recently been flip turned upside down. I keep having to remind myself that yes, this is real, and no, it’s not an accident. Whatever is happening to be as a product of my medium; I’m a storyteller.

In the past 30 days I have been to 20+ cities, in 3 countries, spanning 2 continents. I’ve logged and endless amount of kilometers, and squeezed into far too many uncomfortable plane seats. I’ve enjoyed a plethora of oversized hotel beds, and snapped enough pictures to fill up a handful of memory cards. I’ve witnessed rappers ride miniature motorcycles, and seen comedians roast their own children. I’ve been to playoff games, and stood front row at every concert I’ve been at.

(Above: Only a few of the multiple shots I’ve taken over the last month or so. Trust when I tell you that the next edition of ‘Throwaways‘ will be crazy.)

None of these are embellishments, and none of these statements are meant to gloat. To me, they’re simply stories for me to tell you about, later (and I do plan to tell y’all about them, soon), in hopes that in return you’ll go and chase something crazy that you can tell me about the next time. Thinking about people who never have the realization of the person that they are meant to be is something that is enough to keep me up at night. If the fact that I have been able to materialize all of these dreams by age 22 is enough to do that for you, then I guess I’ll keep telling stories.

Or maybe I’m just wasting my time, and my grandkids will be too busy on their iPhone 42+’s to listen to my stupid stories anyways.

-A how-to, by Hospey.

follow my adventures on the gram @hxspey, or on twitter @hospey

How To Live Comfortably While Travelling:

Perhaps the scariest thing about backpacking, or even moving to a new country is wondering how you will be able to maintain your regular, everyday lifestyle. To avoid shock in a new country, just follow these tips.


Here is How To Live Comfortably While Travelling:

As with everything in life, preparation is key. Do some research, give yourself a head start. No matter what you read, you probably know best so you’ll ignore all hints and bring the necessities of home. For me, this meant clothing. Lots of clothing. Oh, and shoes. (“So, I’m heading to Australia in the middle of summertime? Yea, better bring 5 different jackets. And 5 pairs of Vans. Just in case they don’t sell these super necessary things down there”).

Packing is key. No one wants to be under-packed, so over-pack instead. People can live off 60L bags for months? Nah, you’re no peasant. Bring 2 suitcases worth of stuff, after-all you’re no back-packer­, you’re a ‘traveler’.

It’ll be alright for the first few weeks, a little bit of discomfort is expected… right? Ubering everywhere (like my name was Madeintyo) because the amount of luggage you will have is more than a little difficult to get from hostel to hostel with. Whatever, finding a house is the next step anyways; THEN you will be glad I have all of this stuff.

Turns out, it’s not that easy to find a place in a market that you have no idea about. It’ll take a few attempts. You’ll buzz an older couple on the 7th floor for a showing. They’re nice. Weird, but nice(ish). The gentleman would offer you a beer if he wasn’t on his last one already. The compromise seems strained, but in the end it doesn’t work out anyways.

Back to the hostel.

The rooms are crammed, the bathroom is dirty, and for some reason the simple task of making friends is more and more difficult with each move. It’s kind of like that one time your family moved cross country and you had to make all new friends in the 5th grade… except you’re 20-something and you’re just moving down the street or to a new room, but there’s no playground this time – only booze.

You’ll finally luck out on a house – It’s a little out of your price range, you’ll be sharing with 10 other people that you haven’t met yet, and you pray that your roommate isn’t too strange; he’s cool and everyone is nice, but for some reason you feel like it’s taking some time to fit in. You’re alone most of the day, and you’re fine with that because….

You know what? Fuck this article. This is NOT why I started doing this.

I started writing this piece last week while I was feeling down on my luck. I’d been in the county for exactly 1 month, with what seemed like very little to show for it. I was sleeping on a bed without sheets, without a job nor enough money to pay for the 2nd week in my new house, all in a city where I knew virtually no one. The honeymooner-vacation phase was over and real life was crashing down on me. Hard.

To be honest, I can’t recall how upset I actually was or if I just felt like some sob-story views would make me feel better. But what I can say with certainty is that I made this website to share my stories and experiences, and always keep it 100% real. I did that, and at the time, I couldn’t even finish this post. That was my reality – and most likely will be the reality for every traveler at some point. Travelling isn’t always what Instagram makes it to be; There isn’t always cold drinks and beautiful people at hand, and the sun definitely isn’t always shining. You’re in a new place for a reason: TO LEARN. Though learning often means absorbing something from every great encounter that you have, sometimes it also means understanding what can be taught from the hardest times in your life as well.

Today, my reality is nothing like it was at this very same time last week, so in an effort to keep these stories of my adventures 100% real (okay, I might have to embellish sometimes… but what kind of storyteller would I be if I didn’t?) I cannot finish that post the way it was going. What I can do is tell you about some of my more recent experiences, and finish explaining ‘how to be comfortable while travelling’ – it all comes back to the same point I was trying to make, anyways.

I may get into more details a little later (most likely later this week on my other website,, but so far this week I have: Got a well-paying job, had some amazing conversations with my roommates from around the world, caught up with some old friends & made 1 or 2 new ones, went to my first concert in Australia, got to meet an artist I’ve been listening too since I was 19, redesigned this website, and done the most writing that I’ve done in months. I’m not sure if it was the natural energy of being back in a music environment, or the paycheck (it really is amazing how $400 dollars can make you feel like a king) – but whatever it is, my creative side hasn’t been this invigorated since I started RLGT 2 years ago.

I feel full of energy, confident, and interested – but not comfortable.

But maybe that’s the beauty of this whole thing. Going back to the Bas article that I published a few days ago, this lifestyle will always be one big lesson in culture. It’s not about being comfortable or feeling like I’m at home. It’s about being attentive & adaptive to the world around you… and possibly seeing some cool shit every now and again. Travelling is fun, but it’s not easy. And part of me thinks that is the way is supposed to me.

-A how-to, by Hospey.

follow my adventures on the gram @hxspey, or on twitter @hospey

How to Start A Travel Blog:

You’re twenty-something. You’ve saved up the funds and booked the ticket. Bags packed, itinerary set. Only thing left to do, fulfill your creative need. What better way than to start a not-shitty travel blog!

But how? 

hospeyhowtoWATERMARKHere is how to start a travel blog:

Step 1: don’t start a travel blog.

Now I understand that this might sound a little hypocritical coming from what you would probably consider a travel blogger, but just give me a second to explain.

Musicians make music, photographers take photos, painters make paintings. Writers? Well, writers live life… and then write about it.

So in the sense that I am traveling in my real everyday life, and writing about it, then yes I suppose I could be considered a travel blogger. But I think that there is a connotation and certain stigma around being a travel blogger, which isn’t exactly unwarranted.

It seems as if there is this idea that at a certain point in your 20’s you are to wrap your life up into a 50L backpack and head into Europe for a few weeks. Maybe you’ll set up a fancy Instagram account, but you’ll definitely start a blog. You’ll write about all the classic sights and take pictures at all the classic spots. You’ll write about why your soul was incomplete before traveling and how if you don’t travel it’s impossible to live an enriched and complete life. After all, how can you become a ‘woke’ individual unless your parents pay for you to black-out in a few Mediterranean countries for a summer?

Ah that’s right. There is many ways. You could see your country, volunteer in your city, or do your own thing altogether. Hell, you could just continue living your life and choose to be a caring, open-minded individual without having to tell anyone about it. All of these would be considered adequate options as to how to live a happy and complete life.

Now, just as traveling isn’t for everyone, neither is blogging (god, I don’t think I’ve ever addressed how much I hate the word “blog”, in all conjugations). No I can’t actually tell you not to do it, and believe me if you are reading this: I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO SUCCEED. But as anyone with a Facebook account and a few ‘well-traveled’ acquaintances from back in high school can tell you, there are FAR too many bad travel blogs out there.

This may be a hard concept to grasp, especially considering that every human’s human experience should and frankly, is beautiful in its own way – this is not the problem. The problem is with travel blogging itself. It’s washed. It’s been done. Too many times. Some decent, most terrible. As the author of almost 400 online articles, not even I don’t feel comfortable attempting to champion a successful AND entertaining travel blog. (And best believe that those 2 things are definitely not the same thing).

Backtracking a little, as a creative I encourage everyone to go out there and find their medium and I get excited every time I see someone that I know choose writing as their own. Part of being a creative is, well, being creative.

Do something new, find a new formula.

Don’t be a travel blogger. (Or, you know. Make a shitty ‘how-to’ website instead 🌚)

-A how-to, by Hospey.

follow my adventures on the gram @hxspey, or on twitter @hospey

How to Travel After University:

The context might have been a little different, but I think Hunter S. Thompson had the right idea in mind when he said “BUY THE TICKET, TAKE THE RIDE.”


Here is how to travel after university:

Enroll in some sort of post-secondary institution. You probably don’t want to, and will probably hate a large majority of it, but it will be worth it. It will be worth it, only because it will make the [what happens next] seem that much more rewarding.

Find a friend. Choose wisely; maybe a friend from school. No flakes. (This step is optional. Consider skipping this step).

Find yourself. You never know when group travels become solo travels. Enjoy being alone sometimes, but embrace the opportunity to cultivate new connections.

Get a job/ win the lottery/ or pan-handle. Gather the funds by whatever (legal) means possible, and then resort back to what Thompson first told you to do: Buy the ticket. Open ended, or finite, it doesn’t matter. Lock it in. (hint: don’t give yourself any opportunities to back out).

Plan. Plan. Plan some more.

Now scrap those plans. Find out how you’re getting to where you’re going, and when you’re going to leave. Remember those ‘mad-libs’ books from when you were a kid? Just fill in the blanks. There is no right or wrong way.

Pack. Re-pack. Re-pack again for good measure. A well-packed bag (unlike this post) is well siphoned; edited. No wasted space, no unnecessary additions, and no typos. Wait, what?

Alas, you have nothing holding you back. [Most likely] no permanent residence, no children, no spouse – maybe some school debt, but you’re only [22] years old. Barriers are an illusion. Time is worth a helluva lot more than money, so god-damn it, you’re rich.

Only one thing left to do. Take the ride (ya filthy animal).

Now, I’d be remiss to say that I am some sort of professional traveler, or even that I have tons of experience. Sure, I’ve been here-and-there since childhood, mostly within Canada or back to Trinidad, but until now never have I taken part in such a vividly uncharted experience. But if there is one thing I pride myself on and can feel more comfortable calling myself, is being a professional ‘life-liver’. In fact, I’ve been living life for about 22 years now (who woulda’ thunk it) – finessing every damn day, too.

I’m not here to go all Drake on y’all, with some “everybody dies, but not everybody lives” crap. Rather, I’d like to think that just about everybody has the opportunity in one way or another to go out every day and experience life. Everybody should consider themselves pro’s at living, by this point I would hope – I’m just so lucky that my medium literally allows me to do it, and then tell you about it.

Juxtaposed to the title, these how-to’s are not instructions. Some things, hell, maybe none of the things that will work for me will work for you. But regardless, I’ll be here anyway to share the details of a few of my adventures with you all – you can decide the purpose for yourself. If you don’t consider yourself a professional life-liver yet… I guess it’s just about time to go do a little more living, huh?

There are how-to’s, by me, Hospey, yet I’m the one who is hoping to learn a little bit. (Or maybe I’m just blabbing for click bait).

Currently, I’m sitting in front of a white window in West Vancouver looking out into the blissful abyss of green flora, 30 hours out from my first big adventure with my best friend. This time 2 or 3 days from now we’ll be hugging Koala’s (or something like that, I imagine) in Australia. No return ticket.

So if you see a confused Canadian kid wandering the streets, teach me how to do something. Pls?

-A how-to, by Hospey.

(Thank you to Mark Byrne for writing the inspiration for this site. And sorry for swag-jacking)

follow my adventures on the gram @hxspey, or on twitter @hospey