"Undermining my electoral viability since 2001."

Thankgiving Ham

So I've been rolling this one over in my mind a fair bit in the past week, thinking about what I want out of life, what/how I want to be.

One thing I want is to hold on to my far-flung cadre of friends, the bigger Family I have that's grown by choices. I don't have any illusions about everyone all living together in one big happy hippy compound, or cutting a swath of stylish destruction as a king-hell gang of city-dwelling bohemians. No, people want to do their own things, and that's cool. I'm good with it. There are 31 flavors and more. Please sample them all and stick with whatever fits you the best for as long as it feels right.

What I'm more thinking about is keeping up the knitting, maintaining fresh contact information and some sense of What's Up with all these people I fucking love so much. Keeping up the process of running them into one another whenever possible, expanding the network when appropriate, etc. I don't want to sound like an ass, but I like being a part of an elite crew. I'm ambitious. It drags me down being around sad or needy or low-caliber individuals. You know the tune; Rise above, we're gonna rise above.

I was talking the other day with my Gypsy Princess roommate, about how she's always felt the lure of travel, the open road, adventure. And the more she thinks about it the more she wonders if the life of a rambling gypsy isn't but one of many possible outlets for her inner desires, maybe the easiest and best-practiced and ergo most alluring in a default fallback kind of way. Life tough? Go travlin'. That always gets the juices flowing. But maybe there's something more out there, something more substantial, another expression, a way of being that answers the same calling, but more creatively, substantively, sustainably.

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Tangled Up In Blue

It's a heady collection of tags: authentic experience, nyc, love, sex, friends; should be a real barn-burner of a blog.

Back in Humboldt for a week now, feeling the raw world-conquering momentum bleed away into wood smoke and the smell of fallen leaves. It's not unpleasant at all, this country home of mine -- next week will be alive with family and friends; the way I fell in love in the first place -- but today it gives me a feeling of wistful sadness.

It seems I make myself a smaller person here, or maybe it's vice-versa with the Mother City making me bigger. Much as I believe the hype about the internet flattening the world, it will always be true that different things happen in different places. It was an immense recharge, to walk again the streets of Brooklyn, to feel the quick hard snap of real subway doors, the great heaping crush of humanity, densely packed ambition and excellence. I draw power from the capital of the world.

And it's not just the women, but I won't lie: they're a big part of it. I have a no kiss-and-blog policy, but this little slice from William Gibson has stuck with me since adolescence, and pretty much nails me to a T:

But Bobby had this thing for girls, like they were his private tarot or something, the way he'd get himself moving. We never talked about it, but when it started to look like he was losing his touch that summer, he started to spend more time in the Gentleman Loser. He'd sit at a table by the open doors and watch the crowd slide by, nights when the bugs were at the neon and the air smelled of perfume and fast food. You could see his sunglasses scanning those faces as they passed, and he must have decided that Rikki's was the one he was waiting for, the wild card and the luck changer. The new one.

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Non-Software Piracy

Anyone else find it interesting (if not precisely "cool") that real-live piracy is making a big comeback?

The gap in firepower between a modern navy and private/pirate vessels is so vast as to make this more about the inability of the Powers That Be (increasingly not us) to cover shipping lanes than anything; but given that it's an interesting sign, I believe.

The times, they are a-changin'.

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Country Home

Back in the country home and it's nice to feel the soft touch of nature as I run Moamar off Ox road and into a slick grassy ditch. That's what you get for playing with neutral on steep gravel avenues. Everything worked out though with a midnight chain-gang mission.

After being on the road and on the run for three weeks, I'm looking forward to digging in a bit and really getting some things accomplished. Among them is a yoga class. Next week's thanksgiving festivities should be epic.

Much has happened, but I currently lack the wherewithal to chronicle it with justice, so we'll leave it there. I'm back in the Redwoods and things are going great.

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