In Retrospect

I met someone's ex once, along with said ex's boyfriend at the time, who was a really nice guy. "Poor Mark (not his actual name, of course)," my friend said, in reference to his being tied to this girl, and then, "I wonder if people said that about me when she and I were together." I didn't say so, and probably didn't even know it yet, but I think it was the other way around. People felt sorry for her, which is saying a lot, because she's no dream.

A different someone had a birthday yesterday. He shows me up, because his lifestyle adheres too closely to my ideals, which it turns out I'm afraid to live by. So I bought him The Dharma Bums, only to begin re-reading myself to stay busy while he sleeps (and sleeps, and sleeps) off a poorly-timed flu. He said, "It should be illegal to be sick on your birthday...but then I guess I'd be in jail."

I planned to be a devout little bikkhu, Ray Smith style, and a dried-veggie-and-bulgar-eating minimalist, a la Japhy Ryder. That was more than two years ago. For a while I meditated devoutly, and it was an exhilarating, strange, scary/happy time. My best friend asked if I was having a manic episode. I'm sure I didn't quit on purpose, but I forget what happened exactly. I think it was about the same time I stopped doing yoga, and around the point when I met Evan. Go figure. I keep meaning to get back to it, but months go by and the inertia just gets thicker. I don't like it at all, but I don't change it either. I need a kick in the ass from my personal Bodhisattva. Ty, where are you?