pleased precariously

I spent all day feeling weird. Then I realize:

i haven’t had any coffee

madness ensues.

We were going through some turbulence on the flight back from Boston, and the pilot throttled up a bit. There was more noise and slightly more pressure in the back and bottom of my seat. Then all of a sudden it stopped. It was quiet and still. It felt like we were at the top of the parabola on the vomit comet. It felt like that split second at the top of an air, high above a half pipe, where you’re truly weightless, but it went on for at least a minute. A minute of feeling strangely light, a minute of feeling like I’d float up to the top of the cabin if I weren’t strapped down. So I reached for the buckle…

I’m reconnecting with a girl I fooled around with last fall, during one of the “on” phases of the relationship I was in. The relationship was “open”, for some degree of the word, but she had a problem with it that was finally resolved by her finding another guy and putting a stop to the weekly trysts with me. I remember she interrogated me about my relationship and her place in my life - asking me whose idea the open relationship was, whether I would rather be in a monogamous relationship, and (since I said yes) what would happen between her and me should my girlfriend decide she wanted one as well. I remember answering that it didn’t matter what I wanted in that regard, because it wouldn’t happen. And I remember her acting unconvinced. The reality of the situation had nothing at all to do with anything. What I wanted was all that mattered.

This resonates with many of the recent events in my life. The reality of the situation, the hard aspects of life, is the stuff you explain to people in polite conversation at cocktail parties and brunches, but none of it matters much. What you share in intense, intimate conversations with loved ones is the stuff that defines you - what it is that you want.

i think i lost my neighborhoodie

As I was leaving the coffeeshop this morning, I heard “have a nice day!” yelled from across the giant open room. Everyone stopped what they were doing, and when I turned around the barrista smiled, made a pistol with her hand pointed at me, and winked. I smiled and mouthed “you too”.

In about 4 hours I’ll begin my journey back to the other side of the continent. There’s the excitement of moving in with my new roommates mixed with the weird sense of dread and finality of actually going and buying another bed. The excitement of seeing the Ritual crew again and working from there almost every day, opposite the constant stream of Lower Haight parking tickets. The idea of leaving this 90+ degree heat set against the memory of the manner in which we said goodbye last night.

So, I’ll pack up my things, eat a hotel breakfast, return Dave’s guitar, and hop in a cab to the airport. I’ll say goodbye to Boston and hello to San Francisco, though possibly for only a short time. Sometimes it feels like leaving is all I ever do.