That's it. Pack up your stuff and turn your computer off. Leave work now -- for the week. Go home and take off your shoes. Have some tea and a whole container of spicy hummus with pita bread. Go get that old high school copy of American Beauty and put "Ripple" on repeat. Trust me. Just do it. It's a perfect song.
August 13th is, according, to the ancient Greeks, the hottest day of the year and the Feast of Hippolytus (festival of the sun, or primitive fire-worship). Meet me on Wednesday. No shoes allowed. Bring a dog and your favorite bowl. Wear that long batik skirt (that goes for you guys too). We're gonna have a bonfire. We're gonna drink red wine from handled jugs. We're gonna sleep under the stars. If we sleep.
I've been thinking and have gotten it all wrong for years. It's time to put away the angst music and the designer clothes and the hard-soled shoes. It's all peer pressure anyway (there's no way all these people have the exact same taste in eyeglass frames). Enjoy things indiscriminately.
I am so sick of neurotic white people. So come on, white folk. Or any folk, I don't care. Make me like you.