Random shit I wanted to post that has no feasible connection whatsoever to any definition of "rawness"
Back in the land of the living, for a few days at least.
How cute are Aaron and Courtney? (That shot is all Henna - thanks, Mrs. P).
What a good time. Highlights including, in no particular order:
* WaWa coffee (who am I kidding - that really IS first in line)
* Too much vodka Saturday night, and dancing in Dewey, and the Jolly Trolley, and Kristen and the Noise
* The fact that my clothes still smelled of salt and sea when I opened my suitcase yesterday 3,000 miles later
* HW on the porch at 4 am
* 32 Olive (again, please?)
* XM radio and a sunroof: hello, I-95 delays that don't matter anymore
* Yoga on the beach
* Running on the beach
* Anything on the beach
* Nicoboli on Sunday sitting in traffic on Rt 1: delish
* That blond tranny at the Purple Parrot Friday night: just like home!
* So many old faces (looking hot) in one place
* Pristine weather at Baywood on Saturday
* Guitars and living room concerts at 2am the night before
* Cecilia (of course)
* Hearing those long Delaware "O's" again around Reh-O-both
* Rapper's Delight, and Larger Than Life, and Wonderful Tonight, and No Such Thing, and....
Last but not least - a beautiful couple and a beautiful wedding. Congrats, you two - so glad for you both.
Low points, of course, need not be elaborated. Let's just say I'll be happy if I never have to fly through DFW again. Misery. I kept trying to draw on my yoga bullshit and sit in my lotus and meditate and be chill and accept it and "not resist" it and all that other Buddhist crap, and I'll tell ya - it's harder than you'd think. Especially when you've been sitting on an airport floor for 14 hours and the dude behind you is screaming about product marketing bullshit and Fox News Channel's blaring and your "Jesus Is A Liberal" luggage tag fell off two airports ago.
It IS good to be back home for a brief few days, though; I missed my job, and I missed my carrot juice and my kombucha and my Lara Bars and my vitamins, and I missed my yoga, so much. I don't realize how much I've nested here in SF until I go away and the distance and difference remind me with such glaring clarity how much I take certain things for granted. The long flights definitely crystallized a good number of revelatory things about life and direction and all kinds of other bullshit. I'm going to eat ten heads of celery and do like six hours' of yoga classes a day for the next few days before flying out again at the weekend.
Remind me sometime to tell you the one about the 4'11" security dude named Obadiah in Philly who hooked me up hardcore in exchange for some, uh, adequate compensation. Divinity comes in unexpected forms: among them, Wawa Hazelnut with French Vanilla non-dairy creamer, Trikonasana at the edge of the Atlantic with sand in my face, and my good buddy Obadiah, without whom I never would have had the pleasure of spending a good chunk of my life that I can never get back marching angrily (and futilely) around DFW Concourse A.