Last Monday I scribbled this down before heading off to work:
Oh MAN. Every minute of every day I am thinking about things that make me crazy angry or crazy happy and I so want to share them with all of you in blog form, but alas, my hands are working like crazy little pistons putting truffles and meals out there in exchange for money under a system that hurts my heart but I can’t help feeling I have managed to, kinda, a bit, remake in my own little way, just like I have with this little corner of the internet. It’s uphill work, and I am liking it very much lately.
Let me rephrase.
You know my email signature?
“We don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an endless succession of presents, and to live now as we think humans should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” —Howard Zinn
Yeah. My teeny little business is just humming right along—I’m running it however the fuck I want, according to crazy non-businessey rules that everyone in the “real” world disagrees with, and you know that, it’s going great! The future is an endless succession of presents, peeps, in both senses of the word.
And now it’s Friday, and I’ve been in LA since Tuesday. Here’s what I wrote last night without reading or remembering Monday’s scribble:
The truth is, I haven’t seen much of you for about a month. I’ve gone from home to my kitchen and to the health food store and no where else. No movies or shows, only quickie dinners out, no scenes, no crowds no parties. My own head and my own hands, over and over forever.
Now I’m here out in the universe, and it’s mind-blowing. I’ve enjoyed my time inside myself, inside my kitchen, deeply into my little self-created, self-contained world, but the opposite is a ridiculously enjoyable pleasure right now.
The realization that I hadn’t interacted with anyone but my small work/home circle for so long hit me hard on Tuesday morning in the airport—JFK! Everyone wearing their black NYC uniforms and rushing all around. I was happy waiting in the ticket line, I was happy waiting on the jetway, I was happy on the plane.
Everything was out of my control, everything was being done for me, all I had to do was sit, and stand, and look, and watch. Outfits and pretty girls and little travel dramas being played out all around. Families and businesspeople and cell phones and juicy political gossip. The world!
We landed in LA and it was velvety warm, laughably LA right from the start–palm trees, pretty lights, and fast cars. I’ve been to LA before, but only via tour bus and only for a day or two here and there. This trip we rented a car, a pretty brand new 2009 Camry hybrid that uses a power button instead of a key. Magic! (The leather seats somewhat dampen the excitement.)
I know I should loathe LA, but the truth is that I have no interactions with the Hollywood scene and have wonderful friends in this town who remind me that there are my kind of people everywhere, if you know how to seek them out. This trip seems to be full of little origami boxes of unfolding treasures—a beautiful vintage shop, amazing vegan ice cream, deeply perfect little vegan restaurants all over the place. As usual, you just need a willingness to wander and some good tour guides. I even met up with a new blog friend! Talk about magic–I just put some crazyass shit out on the Internet, and it leads to me meeting a super rad pal on the other side of the country.
OK, that’s it for now. Ridiculous video shoot gossip to come!
Also! Jan from The Office is on my plane home! Also! It is delayed three hours! Am I the only person in the world who loves flight delays? When I get home there will be paperwork and packing for the next vacation and prep for the 1400 truffles I have to make in 72 hours (thank you, truffle customers! I’m not complaining!), and cat boxes to clean and all the million other things to do, but here in the airport there is nothing to do but blog! (OK, I am assiduously ignoring a folder full of three months of receipts that need to be entered into the computer, but let’s not talk about that.)
Oh world, you are too good to me sometimes.
PS: What is up with jean distressing? I am all for a good pair of artfully distressed jeans, fake or not, but it is getting way out of control! What is the point of distressing the backs of thighs?