to find the pyramids

here’s a first: 17 degree weather.

another first? barhopping in downtown boston in said weather, and feeling my face slowly peel off. Isn’t vaseline just deluxe sized chap stick? I could use some about 12 hours ago.

last night was difficult. the weather, the plethora of pizzerias, trains going and coming, cover charges at college bars, jet lagg, chafed thighs (god bless you extra strength gold bond), excessive beanie wear permanently compressing my hair into my scalp, sharing a bed with a best friend – all those pale in comparison (and trust me, i’m a pale expert) to this now familiar sensation of loss and crisis which plagued my head last night. it’s the abandonment of so much of what i know, so much of what i’ve got, for the unexpected, the next, that unknown road i struggle to see. i
the best analogy i can offer: santiago, my young shepherding friend from andalucia, who leaves a cush job tending his flock in spain to search for the pyramids in egypt, who only within minutes of arriving loses all his money to a thief, and thinks nothing else but to return. go read the alchemist.

at some point life’s main highway gets too easy, to routine and an offramp appears. a detour which isn’t really a detour. look up. the GPS can’t be right all the whole time. it doesn’t know the map. the map is in our heads, in our hearts. it’s what i’m tuned to these days. its a great station.

red brick buildings, crowded trains, northface jackets with no 2 alike, a holocaust memorial in the middle of town, john hancocks tomb, the continental army grounds, hawks that kidnap squirrels, seasonal beer, buffalo wings, ponds that have frozen over…it’s cold, but not that cold.

stick around. i live for this. gotta back to the igloo. love, the eskimo.