I’d bet that if I imbibed alcohol, scotch would be my pick of poison. Alas, I am not (yet) a gambler, or (yet) consumer of alcohol. But everyone has a vice (as they should), and polar bears and I happen to share the same beverage of choice: Coca-Cola. It’s not something I keep on hand around the house, because I can’t. Not for lack of trying. If there is coke to be found in the house, I will consume it. This makes keeping it around the house an impossible task (even for someone whose restraint is as finely-tuned as my own).
Recently however another fluid has been filling the hole in my heart, and it was least expected (is this how it always works?). Many years ago, when I was a younger and more active version of my current self, I used to try drinking Gatorade and Powerade but they would usually result in headaches. Too sweet, too many electrolytes, who knows? I swore them off for a decade. Flash-forward to several months ago. I found myself half-way up a mountain and out of water, so I was left with no other option but to hydrate with the Gatorade that Aimee had brought with her. This was my first mistake. Like Jesus and his AA, Gatorade is designed to prey on the weak. Not only is it intended to hydrate you when you are in dire straights, but it is designed to do it so well that it replaces your urge to drink the fundamental element of life: water.
Several months later, and I am sitting here with neon yellow fluid surging through my body. In a glass, on the rocks, with a splash. I get lost somewhere between the Lemon and Lime. And it feels so good.
10 days ago I accompanied Aimee and Kellen to a weekly drum circle that occurs on the beach in the town that I live in. Kellen had been the previous few weeks, and I had been busy on Thursday’s since returning from my summer travels, so I was excited to finally get to experience it. I won’t spend many words describing the drum circle, as it was a drum circle, and I feel like that is self-explanatory. The drumming was great. The company was great. The weather was great. A great time was had.
While there, I met a chef who had just finished her second day of work at the nicest restaurant in my town. It should be said that my town is small but saturated with people, and considering it’s size, it has many food establishments. Over 100 food establishments for a town of 30,000 in 6.5 square miles. That’s quite a bit, especially compared to the last small town I lived in which had around 15 food establishments for a town of 10,000 people. She had had a good second day, all things considered, no complaints. She had been on the island for just over a month. She had been camping on the beaches of Oahu for most of the time she’d been here. She was a chef at the nicest restaurant in one of the nicest towns on the island and she was homeless.
Needless to say she’s been staying in my ample-sized house since that night, on some nights accompanied by her friend/travel-companion/co-chef as well. Why did 1 minimalist man with 1 dog buy a 4 bedroom/2 bathroom house last September? Because if you have room, you will find things to fill it. If you have an aversion to ’stuff’ then you are left to fill it with little else but people. A year ago I lived alone, 1 of 1 (and Maxine), in an attempt to distance myself from everyone and much of what I knew. Today I find myself 1 of 5 (and Maxine), full of great food and exhausted from good times and the energy of great people. I’ve got so much to give.
There is no after-life where I will be rewarded by good deeds in the here-and-now. There is no tax benefit to allowing dream-chasing transients to live with you under your roof. There is no call from a long-dead prophet that I feel the need to answer (or even consider). There is however the guilt of knowing that you didn’t do something when you could. There is that nagging voice that whispers to you in the middle of your sleepless nights that the terrible world in which you live could be so much less terrible if everyone put their words into action. There is the truth that you get what you put out. Be generous in ways you can, put out your heart, and you just might get one back. If not, coconut curry risotto with sauteed tofu/eggplant/sweet potatoes/asparagus is a close second.
Today I took pictures of the house I am buying. It was being inspected, and everything looks good. I was sharing this good news with a friend over AIM and it went a little something like this:
Me: that is it Aimee: oh NICE Me: yeah Me: im stoked Aimee: you should be Aimee: im proud of you Me: i’m going to be in heaven Me: again Me: like Me: i am in heaven Me: already Me: but now i’ll be at the next level Me: like the level where only suicide bombers usually get to go Me: minus the 72 virgins Me: but plus a 1950s style beach house Me: and a nice quiet beach nearby Aimee: hahaha Aimee: its not so very often that someone actually follows through with something they say they are going to do Me: thats true Me: i am a man of action… Me: and i believe obama is too Me: which is why ive been a supporter Me: for a long time Aimee: you are my obama Me: hahahaha Aimee: haha Me: blog post tonight = coming from this IM convo Aimee: oh no…
Since I was born, I have not stopped moving. I don’t mean day to day (video games and computers always seemed to handle keeping me still quite well), but year to year it was one place to the next. As a result, I missed out on a lot of things that my contemporaries who were born-and-raised in their hometowns have/had. I don’t have many childhood friends that I still keep in touch with or even know how to find, nor many family traditions or regular reunions. I have a small family, but they are pretty spread out (throughout the states, and the globe).
As a result, I have always enjoyed participating in others annual get together, especially the famous Memorial Day celebrations in Voorheesville with Matt and his lot. Even though I’m a total newcomer, his friends and their families treat everyone on that sacred day as one of their own (I’m sure they do on the other 364 days of the year as well). It’s a small but wonderful town, and it’s not hard to feel like I’m one of their ilk, especially considering the crowd I roll with while in town. If I’m not partying it up with the likes of the first son and daughter of the town (I even broke one of the Mayor’s wine glasses), I’m engaging in several hour long Drunk Monopoly games just a room away from where the infamous ‘Bill Murray and the Ghostbusters’ alcoholic concoction was introduced to the town (keep in mind, this was before it became the popular drink that it is today).
I know what you are saying, two paragraphs in and this post has nothing to do with the title. Well, astute reader, as wonderful as participating in others occasions of dependable annual comfort and familiarity, they just aren’t…mine.
Two years ago, Aimee happened to move to Chicago and Matt and I decided to go visit for a long weekend in the summer which was picked because of it’s alignment with the dates for the Lollapalooza music festival. A short and cheap flight from New York, it was the perfect combination ’summertime and get out of the city’ event. After those three days of non-stop sun and music I decided that this would be my annual tradition. I had never been to Chicago, and it only seemed fitting that my tradition be established in a place that I had never been, especially with a history not tied to any single geographic location. I had attended with friends that I had met in only the most recent part of my relatively young life, and it only seemed fitting that my tradition be established with those who I had not known for very long.
It’s no longer cheap and conveniently quick to get to, and Aimee no longer lives a short walk away from the festival grounds. The bands this year aren’t as excitement inducing as they were last year for me. Matt couldn’t make it last year, but Leigh filled in and we had a wonderful time, this year it’ll just be Aimee and I. The thing is, it’s not about the place (it could move from year to year like it used to), it’s not about the bands (it could be a full three days of bands I’d never heard of), it’s not even about who is going and who isn’t (one year my friends could all be too busy to attend).
It’s about something I can look forward to before they announce the dates for the following year. It’s about knowing there is a weekend at the end of every summer that I can depend on spending three days soaking in tunes and audio waves. It’s about a tradition, my tradition, that I get to share with Perry Farrell and tens of thousands of other people. It’s about Lollapalooza.
Somebody’s been using a new shampoo! – Ethan Dulles
I’m going to Chicago this week, and I’m going to be staying at my friend Aimee’s. Now that the airlines charge you for the weight of each individual fucking hair on your head, I figured I’d not bring any of my shampoo/soap/toothpaste that need to fit certain size restrictions and be in certain types of containers, to avoid the headache. I know, I know, just throw them in a Ziploc bag, it’s not hard. Well I don’t know about you but the Ziploc ferry doesn’t make stops at the beach hut. I don’t just have Ziploc bags of the right ounce requirement handy because I don’t need Ziploc bags. The great thing about takeout is that it comes in containers that are perfect for leftovers, you don’t even need to have plates.
Obviously I could just get to Aimee’s place and use whatever is available, and she wouldn’t know that I’d been wheezing the juice (I’m a low maintenance kinda guy anyway). But for some reason I decided to ask. Her response was “yes yes yes” which was to be expected, but then it was followed up with “you know that by now”. I did know that, so why did I ask?
I didn’t ask because I actually cared what her response was. If she for whatever reason had said no, I still wouldn’t have brought my own. The response I got implied that I should have already assumed that I could in fact use her shampoo/soap/toothpaste. No big deal, just a small deal.
What other kind of shit should I “know by now” and not need to ask? What do my friends “know by now” and not have to ask me about before doing it? Close friendship is an exclusive VIP club with a long list of unpublished benefits and I think it’s about time someone started making a list. One day I’m going to stumble upon one of my friends doing something that they thought they “knew by now” was okay to do. I’ll ask them to take their pants and leave.
