Early morning at the gym…sweat and instructions…drop your heels, look up. While bouncing my mind bounced to yoga the day before and the drishti. Drishti…the focused gaze. Find your drishti, said the instructor more than once.
granola newspaper coffee shop parking garage parking pass acting class meeting a marble turtle in my pocket
Boublil & Schönberg are coming. Call 911, I’m Boublil-ing.
Later I helped a woman make a copy. Right before class. She fetched me from down the hallway. Why me, I didn’t ask. I was the last one she saw there, I answered myself. After all, I am me, I mean She Who Talks Sweet and Lowdown to a Copier. I pushed the right buttons. She sighed.
I got emails for bras and deodorant and petitions and travel deals.
I got an idea for a prank.
A offered me an Asian grapefruit. Her aunt visited, bringing her a bag of Asian grapefruits. There was a brief explanation about how there is a fruit within the fruit. I see. A and C spoke in Chinese while C peeled her grapefruit. I hovered near them, almost shutting the door. The word “rehearsal” came out in English while I waited (briefly) for the One Who Did Not Come. We cranked out the plot for a melodrama, a melodrama to be set on a yacht. Lots of snobby people and ways to die on a yacht, they said. I said their creation would be for a radio show. They pushed back. They want theatre. We’ll see. It’s such a good thing to clamor for. Defined: perfunctory and episodic. Discussed: villains, trust funds, helpful servants, and ways to interject social commentary. J informally auditioned to be the parrot. Suddenly itched to write it myself, but He Who Peppers His Speech with the F-bomb pushed back. No, no, I will only set up the Google doc. They will write it. I will hover near the door. I will save the Asian grapefruit for the morning.
Poached eggs over arugula for lunch. My dressing had too much zing.
I drove by a mechanic focused on fixing a windshield wiper blade.
We watched DRUNK STONED BRILLIANT DEAD, a documentary about National Lampoon, and ate baked potatoes with bacon and butter and sour cream. How is it that I’ve never seen this footage of John Belushi and Chevy Chase and the Lemmings? And Gilda Radner and Bill Murray doing The National Lampoon Radio Hour? How come it always sounds like they went straight from Second City to Saturday Night Live? They didn’t. How come I didn’t know the name Doug Kenney? After all the issues of National Lampoon I pulled from under my brother’s bed in the early ’80s. Guess it wasn’t his name that was stuck out.
Text to R: I am the one eating your Thin Mints.
Text to self: It is February now. Abandon all resolutions. Find a focus.
“In Sanskrit, drishti can also mean a vision, a point of view, or intelligence and wisdom. The use of drishti in asana serves both as a training technique and as a metaphor for focusing consciousness toward a vision of oneness. Drishti organizes our perceptual apparatus to recognize and overcome the limits of “normal” vision.” —yogajournal.com