Did I ever tell you about that time I saw Charlie Jensen walking out of a Prada store on Fifth Ave in NYC?
Oh yes, I did.
I often have a nice time when I visit NYC, but I would loathe to live there. I'm always anxious to leave--for some of the reasons Charlie mentions and a whole bunch more. That goes for all cities. I'm not a city person. Not a country person either--the fantasy is house a deep in the woods. That must make me a forest person, a closet wood nymph. It would explain that eery Druid/Dryad dream that ended with me finding Daniel Pinchbeck frying organic bacon in my kitchen.
You know, you can't name your kid Forrest anymore. Forrest Gump ruined that for everybody.
In a couple of weeks Gideon and I are road tripping to the Shenandoah Valley. I can't begin to tell you how excited I am. Me, the boy, nature, no internet, a nice hotel to sleep in when we're through convening for the day--we're totally gonna kill something with our hands and eat it. Maybe a cricket?
Speaking of bugs, I dreamed of bug spray again last night. I'm forgetting most of the dream, but I remember spraying for fleas around a house. I found a bunch of them on a table and sprayed that. Then I was confronted by a man-sized flea. I used the rest of the spray on him. I wondered if it would take effect over time because he was still standing. He was a really friendly, chatty flea. He laid down on the sofa to rest a bit. I told him I'd be back and left wondering if he'd die or not. I wasn't sure if I used enough poison and I also wasn't sure whether or not I should kill him. I mean, yeah, he's a giant flea, but he's also quite affable.
Are there any upsides to keeping around a giant flea?
I suppose I should be meditating on this.