Never again

will I leave the beloved insulation of urban life. I will travel by plane from city to city, occasionally visiting lovely liberal towns like Missoula and Marfa, but there will be no more of this suburbia or any “real country living.” Today, for reasons too ridiculous to explain, I heard/saw a cow get shot and slaughtered. I’m not really traumatized by this so much as, well, eeew-ed out. That and due to my proximity to the experience I can categorically say that the cow was not killed with respect, kindness, or care, despite being one of a handful of cows on a family farm. So there goes that myth. Following the cow incident was a brief trip to a mall (what?) where, among other things, I heard an adult man use the words “c**ksucking motherf***ers” in conversation with a six-year-old. Now, I’m no expert, but that doesn’t seem cool. I’m now safely back in the land of sirens, crackheads (is this un-p.c.? “people suffering from an addiction to the ‘crack’ for of cocaine”?), and cantankerous roommates, where the worst I have to worry about is getting my sh*t stolen, and, apparently, not wearing the right thing to the right part of the right wedding.

In other news, David Brooks can kiss my butt. For those of you who don’t have the joys of TimesSelect (or this “paper” I hear so much about), dude just wrote a whole diatribe on the conventionality of tattoos and how lame they now are. Here’s my guess – someone’s daughter just got a butterfly tattoo on her hip, and this is how daddy communicates/expresses his feelings (p.s. I know absolutely nothing about D.B. except that he’s wearing a pink shirt in his profile picture). Just to get it out of the way, here’s an incomplete list of things that I do/have that might be considered “conformist displays of individuality”:

Have tattoos
Am pierced
Play in a band
Live in San Francisco
Go to trendy bars with friends
Wear pants
Eat “ethnic” food
Do not eat animals
Am not married, with child, or a parent
Have a blog
Work for an environmental non-profit
Read good books
Read the Onion
Vote

I hate to say that there’s nothing new under the sun, but living in this place makes it difficult to imagine that I’ll ever do anything that someone else hasn’t already tried. Does that make me “vanilla middle class” and “absolutely mainstream”? Does the fact that Kevin Federline and I both have tattoos make us lump-able? Dear god, let’s hope not.

So this is what a neglected blog looks like (actually, this is what a neglected blog really looks like, not to name any names…), but I’m finally back in the world of home-internet and so I guess it’s time for an update. That and two of the approximately four people that actually read this have recently noted that I am, in fact, not dead.

Where’ve I been? Well, it all started with a vacation, which was awesome (check out the pics on flickr. If you want to see the real ones with real human friends in them, email me). It started at the High Sierra Music Festival, complete with the likes of Keller Williams, Hot Buttered Rum, Bela Fleck and Nickel Creek. I think the real highlights were the pick-a-long with the crazy-awesome Jake Shimabukuro and the workshop with Bela and Chris Thiele. I had high hopes for the late night Bela and Nickel Creek show, but apparently the non-mando playing members of Nickel Creek decided not to play with Bela…but it was still pretty awesome and inspiring.

Four days of good fun, great friends, and fantastic music was followed by a short solo backpacking trip along the Lost Coast. It was amazing, I chased a bear out of my awesome campsite (note photo of successful bear bag), and I was reminded yet again that I shouldn’t try to vacation places where I’m too familiar with the vegetation. Nothing like feeling totally out in the middle of nowhere only to come upon a f***ing pampas grass (Cortaderia jubata and/or C. selloana) infestation. Boo. But old growth redwoods are pretty rad. Yes, I hugged one or two.

Finally, I cruised up to Eugene, Oregon, to check out the Oregon Country Fair. I can’t quite explain this one to you…this is the kind of place where it is spelled faerie, people wear stilts, and one can purchase and don these. Pretty intense. Next year I want to be on the inside!

But, yes, all that was over a month ago now. I returned from the vacation to move the following weekend (I now am an integral part of the gentrification of the area surrounding The Independent), and we just got the internet humming yesterday. In addition, my plant killing and trail building responsibilities have led to some unfortunate sleeping situations (as in, not getting enough), so don’t expect much for the next few months, but I’ll try to be more forthcoming.

Glad to be back, internet. I’ve missed you.