Was it because of the enormity of the crowd, with vehicles and humans from horizon to horizon, sea to shining sea, to the moon and back, oh my god oh my god oh my god?
No. I expected that. I knew it would be bigger than last year’s gigantic swarm. I was mentally prepared for hugeness, which is easy for me, because even though I like being far from humanity, I also like cities, even ad hoc ones in the desert.
Things were better coordinated than last year, so it was surprisingly mellow.
Then I must have fled because of all the fucking rules and restrictions, right? Don’t fence me in! Don’t tread on me! Live free or die! Death to tyrants!
No. See “better coordinated” and “mellow” above.
Then it must’ve been the Great and Terrible Pit we were forced to drive through to get in and out of the site, and the Los Angeles rush hour traffic jam it created as one rig after another was mired in the wash and sucked down to the bowels of hell, and as thousands died, unable to flee plague-infested, fire-breathing flying monkeys and the volcano that erupted in the middle of the morning meditation circle.
No. Because that’s ridiculous. And because the road just wasn’t a problem.
I left because my social awkwardness had taken over. Again. I had given myself several pep talks beforehand. I was going to talk to strangers, share histories and ideas, maybe make some new friends. I was going to shoot more Nomad Origin Stories.
N-n-n-n-o. So there was no point hanging around.
Now I’m with an old friend as other friends pass through. I can deal with that. (Though I have no idea how was I ever able to make these friends in the first place.)
I read an article in a psychology magazine a number of years ago that said that males to develop their closest bonds of friendships with other males during their teens and early twenties. That it becomes more difficult to make those deeper connections as they get older. I have no idea if that is true or hogwash but it seems to have some substance to that statement from my observation of some of the men I have been close to over the years.
ReplyDeleteYou left too soon and missed all of the flooding. Vans are floating by as I type!
ReplyDeleteNot good wheelchair conditions.
DeleteWait!? You can personally dislike something without thinking it's trash, trashing it, or trashing the person(s) who created it? ... That's probably why your blog isn't huge: not enough drama.
ReplyDeleteAlan's comment is great. You don't have to have an agenda to just say no, I'd just rather not... kenny
ReplyDeleteI relate to suffering from sporadic social awkwardness. Karin’s citation of men having trouble forming male friendships as they age is also spot on for me. Brings some comfort to see these things acknowledged.
ReplyDeleteLoretta and I love your blog. I read it to her almost every morning. I can sympathize with your intravertable feelings as I was once one myself. Now, I am inconsiderate blabbering mouth, trying to strike up Conversation with everyone I meet. I think it happened as a defense against my illsuited banking (vs pin stripe suited) career,especially after I turned liberal after nearly 50 years as a right wing bastard.
ReplyDelete