On the road
Sunday night: The desert was like a sweltering Chicago subway full of indie kids and electric chatter. After 8 hours of Coachella day 2, Trent Reznor like a nine inch nail to the head, and a whirlwind of afterparties at the Indian Palms Hyatt, sleep never came. Instead I mulled on outer space, inner space and perspective.
Tuesday day: Running around San Francisco’s Tenderloin with Nick. We sat at a dimly lit Crepe garden cafe and drank Coca Cola out of origional bottles, discussing a book he’s reading and his ensuing concerns about doomsday, the Mayan apocalypse, comets, mankind’s utter vulnerability, etc. We connected on some tiny shoestring of consciousness in this massive and ever mystifying universe. He was wearing his seven jeans. I was wearing my $2 scarf from Haight-Ashburry. It was all so important.
Wednesday morning: Back in Tahoe. Went to read my morning news and immediately saw THIS article.
Despite my best attempts to ignore, I keep waking up to the cosmic muses tapping on my head.
