A Human Movement
Monday, August 11, 2003

Upon my return from the less populated reaches of Vermont, I'm surprised to see such little movement on the blog. We should all hang out some time soon, those of us in the city,,,

I had fun in Vermont, with the reviewery types, but I grew beleaguered quickly. The conversations were lively and the air genial, but the pace was fierce and the incessant demand of socialization taxing. It's difficult to describe, but my physiological response to the social predicament might have had something to do with the fact that we ate sparingly, subsisting mostly on snacks and then a monster burger in the evenings. (Thom, you know I must eat or I will not be merry; my body chemistry is such that I prefer to burn for energy the calories consumed in a day rather than the tender muscles and organs and brain cells that I hold dear, feeling the nagging emptiness inside.) We were attempting to lead active lifestyles, running and throwing and swimming, so the scant diet did become an issue.

My appetite was further curbed by a nervous stomach, and I became increasingly anxious, probably due to the fact that opportunities for disengaging and chilling out were largely not an option. It did make me think whether or not I was withdrawing from some addiction left behind in the city; this occurred to me in fact when I got home, still reeling from the deleterious effects on my organism, and smoked a bit of weed, which relaxed every tense fiber in my body and allowed my cumulative social anxieties to disperse and metabolize themselves. In a word, I felt better, but I don't mean to suggest that I'm addicted to weed; rather it made me think how valuable a room of one's own is, and how fucked up hanging out with a bunch of beautiful brainy types can be.

It was fun, but made me think, as ever. I can meet and be merry, speak my mind and appreciate the thoughts of others, but I've learned that when a queer conflation of intellect and sex is sequestered and manifested in the wilderness of Vermont, my sensorium grows weary and my will to struggle and rise to the challenge progressively weakens. It was intense and I'm happy I went, happy to be back. Like I said, we should hang out some time this week, Josh, Thom and I -- but I did realize that if I can't beat a retreat to my homestead, fill my tummy, and smoke and read a book at length (this can't be done with avatars of sex and intellect just outside the door, and thankfully I don't have that problem in my apartment), I will feel worn from within and without.

A revelation.
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