Sullen club kids on the BART train from Oakland, nerves sprung and spent, seeping an aura of burnt out drugged exhaustion and apathy. Leaving the station I'm welcomed into the moist gloom of a trumpeter's strained, lonely song, soft tones lingering like quivering jaws. The heavy smell of weed and booze drifts from the staggering ghosts of 16th street, dissipating into the air, forgotten and lost once more. I walk through funnels of dance-pop and past the chattering packs of smokers steeped within them. Egos collide outside Delirium and addicts weave through crowds with wide-eyed abandon, straining and focused on the next fix. No, I don't have a quarter. Sorry. I can't help you.
The truth laid bare is that we're all fucked up in some way or another. You've got to save yourself, man. Sometimes walking down the street is running a gauntlet. Just keep dodging bullets until you come out the other side. Do it again tomorrow.
Hey, hey, little monkey, that's not the way. That attitude's not helping you. You peel back the layers to expose the chewy center of grief of pain all too often, but you're just looking in a mirror and picking out the parts you don't like. There's love there too, and joy.
Change your attitude and the world is transformed. You just came back from eating chicken and waffles in Oakland with some new friends. And some old friends. See? Remember how you melted every time that tiny girl's belly laughs ended with a snort? That was just a couple hours ago.
Ah, yeah, sorry, I just haven't been sleeping much lately and I'm getting up in 5 hours to go surfing. I'm sort of dreading it.
And? That's awesome. Leave yourself open to the possibility of life happening. Just keep showing up no matter what and everything unfolds before you. And remember: it's all a tremendous amount of fun. At least, it is if you think it is.
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