Underthecurrent


12 July, 2010 23:49
July 12, 2010, 11:49 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I came home to a mostly empty house, a mostly empty fridge, and a face in the mirror that had been away for awhile. Happy, minus the repetative injury strain lines from focusing on a screen day after day, speckled with sun freckles, the ones that make me look more childish across the tops of my cheeks and the bridge of my nose.

Fusion sushi. Japadog. Real live Geishas applaud the start of our Gaga Kareokee cross country tour, a man sits and tambourines. Such a hit in a small ski town that the next day someone tracks us down at our hostel to give us a coffee gift card with a sweet note inside. Meeting said people when they recognized us from our slummy $5 pizza where we had been eavesdropping about possible kareokee. Watching a semi in a constricted club with a thousand Germans, eating two kinds of wurst and some saurkraut. Beer, frequently. Crashing for free in a mostly unfurnished million dollar bungalow with a full pool out back and a sweet little old gardener, crashing for free in a furnished downtown condo. A small town improvised kwaito performance and some booty shaking as a chick rides her longboard through the bar, followed up by some unexpected Gaga and a round of Hollaback Girl. Figuring out the kids we were smoking with on the lawn were five years younger. Figuring out we had been lost, before dark or drinking, for an hour in a town with a population well under five hundred people. The most intense disenfranchised people I’ve interacted with, on streets that smelled like urine. Finding two outdoor live music events serendipitously. A thousand beautiful views in a matter of days.

The other leg, via train, had been less relaxing because it involved more family, but still contained a lovely night that conspired to bookend a lot of stories and which somehow summed up many of my favorite things about that place: small town parties, drinking until the sun comes up, and old friends with well known histories. The train is a great way to go.

I hauled a bunch of stuff for storage because I didn’t know how to let it go yet, it seemed too definitive to give it up; though looking at the stacks of miscellany once I’d brought it back I was pressed for real reasons to keep much. I realized what I have requires another run through, probably two.

Being away seems to affirm what lies ahead, good or bad.

This article is most excellent (and different from what this quote implies):

“It doesnt matter as much to own a pair of shoes as it matters to prove that someone once wanted you or loved you or that you really did travel to Paris or Thailand or Africa, but maybe if you buy enough shoes, the ache of impermanence will calm, close up into a peaceful silence.”
the new inquiry

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