Yesterday Sam and I biked 50 miles to another town where some friends live. The weather, incredibly, has been 80 degrees and sunny everyday, and tomorrow it’s going to be 85. The ride was hot but I enjoyed the rolling NC countryside in these parts, a sort of windows desktop stocked with ponies, edged in unkempt woods. I want to live in a patch of unkempt woods. I want to build a treehouse there. How do I do this, and keep all the world’s children from finding me?
We got to our friend’s place around five and made the biggest cast-iron skillet of food, coconut milk and tempeh and veggies and rice and lentils, with coconut icecream for dessert. Pretty much a classic. The neighbors were grilling Elotes and passed us a few, ears of corn roasted in the husk and smothered in mayonnaise, chili and lime. After dinner we hit up the hot tub in a nearby apartment complex, pretending we lived there and jumping back and forth between pool and hot tub depending on how we were feeling. A woman rode the elliptical trainer in a gym next door, separated from the pool by a wall of glass. She missed our crazy hijinks, she was watching the presidential debate on a TV that hung from the wall.
I’ve been thinking alot about where I belong, about what to write about, about where to go. At this point, all that matters to me is my writing, even to the point of being somewhat irritating to my friends, or at the very least, a little dull. You guys are gonna go tear up the town- that’s cool, I’m gonna write for a while… And I’ve been wondering what I should write about- I can go anywhere, pretty much, (weather permitting) and I can write about anything, at least for a little while. And also- I can’t decide if I should stay on the eastern half of the country for longer or if I should go back to the pacific northwest, which I miss, but which is now decidedly cold and damp. Also, I think maybe I’m having a bit of an existentialist crisis about this whole ‘blog’ thing- as opposed to my previous ‘Fuck the World’ attitude. I mean, people read it and like it, but sometimes it feels creepy and weird. And by just saying the words ‘creepy and weird‘ on my blog, am I inviting more creepy weirdness to manifest itself? I’d like to hear from fellow bloggers on how they deal with this problem.
Tomorrow we’re biking back home, where there are acorns to gather and drums to play. Life, right now, is good.