The Ball family will be in Los Angeles from June 27th to July 6th. Maybe we'll celebrate our nation's independence with Donald Duck and Minnie Mouse and other patriots, and well as the west coast contingent of happyrobot. I've spent almost no time in LA, so am excited to be somewhere new, in Silver Lake, see old friends, and get the hell out of Manhattan for a little bit. I've grown kind of weary of New York lately. The combined nature of New York City, its dense, closed off island geography and teeming life, especially in the summer, lends itself to constant thoughts of escape and triumphant return.
We'll see how I feel when I come back. I've long said I'll never live anywhere else, but I see now, as 40 looms a few months away, why the typical story one hears is, after a decade or two, urbanites move to Vermont or somewhere to start an organic farm or a B&B or something.
Speaking of mid-life. I think I've come mostly out the ass end of a long mid-life crisis. It's funny when it happens in the movies, not so much when it's you. It got worse and worse, then a few weeks ago got kinda scary, then, thank god, it got better. Years ago, if someone had told me I'd be running my 230 pounds up and down East River Park every other day, in my new New Balance, listening to Modest Mouse or Geezer Lake screaming through my iPhone, and sweating out twenty years of cigarettes, coffee, and alcohol, all of which I've more or less completely set aside, well, I'd have said you could see the future. I think with age one doesn't gain wisdom so much as finally understand why in the world anyone would jog.