It was a day of realignment. Three hours of getting my fascia re-sculpted and learning how to breathe into different areas of my body. Then a long slow drive to Brooklyn in traffic and intermittent rain. Then a few hours spent with my brother talking about matters of the spirit and walking around Williamsburg with its top to bottom graffiti and watching the esteemed 73-year-old, Mr. Lee Ving, with his band FEAR, rip it up in glorious fashion. He's at the tail end of a national tour playing shows every night. I couldn't resist the dance floor and had myself a good purifying sweat while somehow managing not to be crushed in the process. My back's a little worse for wear this morning but look at Lee, damn it. Just look at him. Then I drove home in less traffic among Connecticut's Saturday night apocalypse drivers, high at 100 mph, trailing atmospheric green vapor. A friend texted from far away saying she's gotten over her fear of driving in the mountains. How's your love life, my brother asked me. Solo, I said. You ok with that? Partially, I said. I'm partially ok with that.
No comments:
Post a Comment