Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Sometimes I like to be alone.

This weekend was Gay Pride weekend, one of San Francisco's high holidays.  Rainbows, visitors, and parties were everywhere.  Normally, the GF and I take opportunity to enjoy all the celebration, party with our friends, or just soak in the gay atmosphere.  However, this year she is taking a vacation in New York City.  So I was unpaired.

Singled out though I was, I have great roommates who are always willing to involve me in their shenanigans.  Yet I felt the need to excuse myself and wander the city alone.  Saturday was rather practical, as I picked up boots from the cobbler and did some exchanges/window shopping at REI, among other wanderings.  I caught a bit of a Giants game while in an empty bar, and stocked up on good beer before heading home for a little Netflix.  I felt satisfied. 

The next day was more complex.  Lazing around in bed for most of it, I threw on my kendogi and hakama to do some wandering.  I added a cloak and my walking staff for good measure.  I've found pleasure in wandering about in non-binding, well draped clothing.  It also turns a simple walk in the park into something more unique.  Luckily, it's summer, so the sun was on my side.  I got out of the house at four, and was bathed in late afternoon sun until I returned.

The premise was fairly simple; go to the park, walk, stay away from people if possible.  Of course, not only is it Pride (although that was mostly happening downtown), but one of the radio stations had organized a free concert in the park.  It was over when I arrived, but I met people leaving and I saw the stage being taken down.  Fortunately for me, Golden Gate Park is a huge swath of green.  By heading away from the populated area, I could find peace and quiet, with only the occasional jogger to meet me.  At one point in my journey, I stood still for several minutes, just listening to the song of the birds.  I saw a hawk being pursued by a small blackbird.  Later the same hawk would fly not ten feet away from my head.  I journeyed aimlessly, only wishing that I could return to my house on foot.  After an hour or two, I bussed and trekked through the city and home, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying to rejoin the concrete.

Throughout the weekend, I spoke little.  I sent out a few messages from my phone to certain friends.  Mostly I had audience with the thoughts in my head.  As it sometimes seems they are receiving constant stimulation, it was refreshing to allow them to breathe a bit.  Now that they've rattled around my head, I find myself wanting to speak about them to people, to my close friends and compatriots.  I'm ready to be social, truly social.  But it was a good weekend to be alone.

I'm still here,

LT

Remember that happiness is a way of travel - not a destination.
Roy M. Goodman

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