|Welcome back to earth, the month is now March.
We’ve had two days of rain. Saturday I experienced my first ever workout at “Barry’s” (It’s Globo-gym, British trainers yelling at you and all). Then to Echo Park for lunch at Honey Hi. And today an excursion to Ikea.
I took the 405 to Burbank, pulled up my podcasts app and browsed through what was on deck. Politics dominates the feed, but I skip that for interviews
Jennifer Lawrence on Maron, some banter about her new movie, which I quickly switched over to Dan Carlin on Joe Rogan.
Dan does Harcore History, epic 3+ hour shows about ancient war-time history. It started in 2005 and he’s only 61 episodes in, if that tells you anything about the research and quality.
“The Wrath of the Khans” series being my favorite.
Anyways, they were in a debate about how informed the average citizen is today on politics and is it even possible to have informed voter any more? And will the future of gerrymandering be some type of truth-complexity?
And now I was back to politics… so I ultimately landed on Rich Roll’s interview with David Goggins, a Navy Seal who’s completed dozens of ultra-marathons and set the world record for most pull-ups in 24 hours (4,030 if you were curious).
I want to understand someone’s mindset. To explore a new worldview, especially when they’re much different than my own. Right now I’m loving the rawness of Goggins, so I picked up Jesse Itzler’s book about living with Goggins for a month and training with him in Living with a Seal.
These days we flip so quickly to the next station, next channel, the next, next…
And for some reason as I’m driving, I’m thinking about my time back in 2013 when I was just out of school.
Where on Sundays I would try and disappear.
I’d sit in a bakery on main, in the back of the kitchen where they had a single table for the regulars. I’d order a lemon bar and a pour over and occasionally meet with Chris McAlister and he’d come from teaching a course at Capitol. Or I’d head to The Table and talk with the bar staff at the lull in the day between shifts from 1-3 PM while they turned over tables and prepped for dinner. I’m the odd one who brings the book to the bar and sits at the end without talking much. Sip a negroni and a coffee and eventually, we’d get into a discussion and I’d go back to reading as the shift picked up.
It’s that feeling you get, like when you travel.
You’re a stranger but you’re also relaxed because you have no place to be.
To me, that’s doing the day right.
Where can I go where I am both recognized and left alone?
Where can I sit where I’m in no hurry?
I bring a pile of books and a few notebooks…
And I find that space in between my work having started and being finished. It’s a type of rapture. And my mug is half full but still warm…
You don’t want it to end.
What I am is on vacation.
And I’m within a few miles from home.
And I’m sitting, writing without an agenda.
And I’m soaking up the day.