If life is a string of moments, pleasant and unpleasant and in between, and you only get so many, and we all end up in the same place in the end, then isn't the best that life has to offer merely a good moment? Regardless of time or place or company or status or success or age or intentions or...
There have been a lot of good moments recently, I'm trying not to take that for granted.
I know I've said this before, but I just keep thinking about it, keep saying it, keep turning it over in my head and my hands, and I don't quite know what to do with it.
Around 2AM, walking home from the bar, which I had only made it to at last call, I was suddenly drawn into the melee of a club letting out, and freshly drunk, I pushed towards it. The street was filled with gridlocked stretch Hummer limos and streetlights and brake lights were flashing off of the giant rims of Escalades. I didn't think I cared about rims, I mean, looking at my beat up Honda, you wouldn't expect it, but man those things sparkled! And the sidewalk was flooded with people, spilling out in the street between cars, and stereos were blaring and the bodies of cars were vibrating with bass, and hundreds of voices were lifting up over it all. I stumbled through taking it in. That was a good one. I love being in crowds the same as I love to be alone, though once I pushed through that commotion, which I discovered was the aftermath of a BET Awards pre-party thing, I didn't want to go home. I dragged on down the sidewalk looking at all the people, all of them, dressed up and out on a Monday night, and I found myself waiting in a crowded pizza place for a slice, drowning in the constant sensation, the guys behind the counter yelling at one another in spanish, the clientele all mingling, talking shit, making friends, the scraping of pizza cutters, the smell of the hot ovens overwhelming me, and when I walked out, I walked out with a slice so big it took two paper plates, soaked clear with hot grease, just to handle it.
That is most certainly what life is about.
And I had just come from seeing Death Cab play on a giant stage, in a giant room, with thousands of other people, and I looked up at the unfathomable height of the ceiling, and back, at the myriad of faces, hearing all those songs I know, and feeling on the outside of it all, as I always do, soaking it all in.
I even got a call around One AM last night from a friend saying he is flying down to LA tonight, on a whim. Holy shit! I was planning on driving up today, but that can wait until tomorrow, or later. I want to be home, but I feel at home anywhere my friends are, and I can only imagine it will be a wonderful string of good moments this evening. The album is done. I have nothing set in stone. I might as well just drift along and see where the current takes me.
Fuck yes!
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