mercredi 14 juin 2017

If you lived here you'd be home now

I am back from the wilderness (well, a whole FORTNIGHT in Spain with my grandmother).  I am very suntanned, so zen I am practically levitating.  I did very, very little.  I feel I have slowed down to octogenarian pace, which is a rarity for me.  Readjusting to real world life - alarm clocks and trains and general bullshit, quite frankly - is HARD.

I did writing, mostly on a sunny balcony, sometimes in a cafe.  I tried to go running every day and to chant every day.  I drank gin.  I read precisely zero books.  I sat still an awful lot.  I swam in the sea.  I had Thai massages on the beach.  I ate chips.  I slept.  I walked.  I wore a hat.  I listened to a lot of Radiohead and Prince and Steely Dan and Cat Power and Devendra (my nan's new favourite OF COURSE).

While I was away, I had a birthday.  How (HOW?) am I 36 years old now?  Nothing is what I thought it would be.  Mostly that's OK.  I got some great birthday presents.  The best ones were: a rose quartz necklace and the Brian Eno Oblique Strategies cards that I have been fascinated with for the longest time (I seriously cannot imagine a duo of presents that 'get' me more than this, from someone I haven't known for very long); and a black/red reversible Chinese silk jacket, that my dad bought my mum in Hong Kong in the 1970s and I have coveted literally my whole life (THANK YOU, MUM).

I am seeing a lot of cats and a lot of 11.11.  (WHAT DOES IT ALL MEEEEAN?  The cats speak Spanish so it's hard to tell, obvs.)  This generally means evolution is afoot.  Or that I am overtired.

Today I am mostly trying my best to hang on to the zen.  Wish me luck.

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