Wednesday, August 20, 2008

on my mind


1. Brazil. Brazilian people. Portugese. Being sexy without being perfect.
2. The sound of bent handlebars being rocked on a counter.
3. Summer bean cassoulet, by surprise.
4. A movie star's conversation at the next table over.
5. Famine.
6. The dreamtime of the Irish. Vegan food in Ireland. Gaelic.
7. Thighs.
8. Drinking water.
9. Location independence.
10. Books. The summer reading club at the Vacaville Public Library. Choosing your own adventure, over and over and over, and never tiring of visiting that haunted house and choosing to do the wrong thing just 'cause, even knowing you were going to get 'The End'.

Monday, August 18, 2008

a first time for everything


If I sorta knew it was going to happen from the first moment I threw a leg over the bike in the morning, I didn't let it stop me. And honestly, I was too tired to be altogether surprised to find myself splayed out on the 10, watching my riderless bike lamely try to chase down the van that hit me.

I came away with a scuffed knee and a few bruises. And the injured dignity that comes from standing in the middle of a crowded freeway, waiting for some kind soul to hop out of a car to help you pick up your bike.

I'm a lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky girl.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

fever dreams


I've felt this before, but never so strongly.

I think I picked something else up in Thailand - something more than the mysterious Dengue. Something even more resounding than the ebullient "Sawadekaaaaaa!" and "Kap khun kaaaa!" that I can use almost exclusively in nail salons here in this city.

I picked up a cowbell-resistant fever. For roamin'.

I read ravenously, snacking on other experiences as I plot my own. I'm going deep into the world.

I know nobody's going with me. I offer, receiving occasional smiling agreements, but I know I'm going alone.

Finally, I'm OK with that. My fella's OK with that.

Zoom.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

after these messages, we'll be right back


I'm experiencing an exhilarating flip in perspective.

Perhaps it's because of the books I've been reading, or perhaps it's something else: that subtle something that snapped back into place when I went to Thailand...like setting a bone after a break.

Los Angeles feels like a quiet bower - a grey, neutral space in which to rest and refuel between excursions.

It struck me most when I decided, on a lark, to give a hammock I picked up in Thailand to a furniture-free friend. He needed a place to rest his head in a new apartment, and I just happened to have the hammock in my trunk. Boom - fatalistic housewarming gift!

When I took out the hammock out of its stuff-sack to show him, the rich purples and blues and greens poured out into our hands in stark contrast to the brown-grey beige of this city. I had a belly-deep pang for the intense colors and flavors of life on the road.

The world looks more and more like a menu every day.