The Mojo Asana

So we were all like, wah, do we have to go to yoga, last night, Alpha and I, by “we” I mean “I”, and not really “wah” but, it’s cold out, a nice fire is a tempting thing, but we went, both of us, readily in the end, and willingly, a new yoga place with a new teacher because Alpha got robbed at the last place and it gave us a bad feeling sort of, and the people here looked nice, and hey, she had yoga mats for sale so I got a new yoga mat first off, and we ordered yoga cushions, so it was worth it right there, because I hadn’t had a yoga mat before, always just borrowed spares. Plus there was a fairly pretty, young brunette with nice hips I did a good job of not staring at, sort of a sad look in the depths of her eyes, just the way I like, sad and vulnerable, and the teacher instructed in more detail and the asanas were in general more strenuous than at the last place. Less exotic-language singing, just an Om at the end and Namaste, and at the beginning a story about a little boy who wanted to meet god and had lunch with an old lady at a park, shared his lunch with her on a bench, no conversation, just smiles, and when he got home his mom asked him what he had been up to all day since he was in such a good mood, and he said he had lunch with god and she has a nice smile, and the old woman when she got home was asked by her son the same question and she said, I had lunch with god and he is a lot younger than I expected which story, okay, but OTOH it pretty much sums up my personal theology right there.1 So another good sign, I guess, or at least not bad. And in the relaxation winding-down thing at the end she — the instructor — talked about “sending smiles” to various body parts, such as feet and legs etc.

And we came home and went to bed and fuck if I didn’t wake up at 2 in the morning so fucking pumped up with energy, mojo and ideas, my legs so full of fucking smiles, like restless-leg syndrome on crystal meth, that I ran downstairs so as not to wake my wife and licked all the Christmas card envelopes, and sorted them by country of destination for easier postal service and read another chapter in Inherent Vice. It was like being plugged into a wall socket. Ideas for novel chapters and blog posts, such as the following:

Beta visited me at lunch yesterday to sign Christmas cards and chat. She was wearing a frilly sort of sleeveless black mini-dress over jeans and I told her that she looked like someone who had escaped from a circus. She was all, huh? I meant it in a positive way. I have always admired and enjoyed her unique, personal fashion sense. Dunno if she took it the way I intended. And I have liked the dress over jeans thing since (one of) my beautiful cousin(s) used to visit back in the, I guess, early 70s dressed like that, she and her hippie friends, and I thought it looked cool.

I also had a series of footnotes to include in that post there but, no time! I didn’t get started writing or painting or surfing the internet because it was 2AM and I wanted sleep. I went back to bed and mananged to sleep from about 3 to 4.30 or 5. Had some dream about sex, at least I think it was about sex, may have involved fucking, or not. It is unclear.

On the way to school, I was telling Gamma how hyper I was, thanks to whatever new mojo asanas we had done, talking at a marvelous rate and she was like, Heh, I believe you. And she told me about an end-of-the-world dream she had had, one of a lot she’s been having apparently, and I would have been, gee, interesting, except it was a spookily close match for a similar dream a friend of mine had a couple days ago so I was like, paying close attention and asking questions such as, How was the weather? and Who was in it? and all the details were matching. It was snowing. I was in it.

And right now, I look out the window and see: it is snowing. And I am here, reflected in the window.



1 My only, or main, problem with this theology is it means the douche in the Doblo who cut me off in traffic this morning is also god. Which, man.