Entering Circa on Avenue J in Flatbush to find a half eaten meal left by some teeny bopper bais yaakov girls who dont know the meaning of having to pay for your own food. While munching on this free food fress fest, I notice a beautiful frum girl in a tight black stretchy dress looking at me through her bangs, she brushes them out of her eyes and continues with the look “I want that dude over here to come shteig some gemara with me” and then her husband comes back from the bathroom and I continue with my free food. hahahahahah.
2:34 am I roll over in my sleeping bag and rush to the bathroom for an emergency mid sleep pee, gazing out the window I see the most beautiful thing any one wants to see when it is below zero and windy outside. A whiteout- that’s right- a blinding blizzard of snow coming down at 3 inches per hour and already building up. That virgin white street without a trace of traffic. The full knowledge that I have to start waxing my skis right after this piss at 2:34 in the morning.
Cruising down the highway in some far off place, dry hot desert breeze flows through my hair, peripheral vision scans the hillsides for abandoned mines and other relics of the gold rush past, and then suddenly up on the hill amidst multiple sage bushes and small cactus a small entrance to a mine combined with old mining cars and other relics beckons me ad my head lamp to venture up the dry sandy hill and see what the miners of yesteryear have left for me.
A huge concrete skate park with smooth bowls and huge street course. Need I say more- yes I do need to. Thoughts of the Louisville, KY skatepark turn me on.
Seeing some obscure jam band that blows my mind away from the first riff. The hair on my nipples stands at attention as I let the music engulf me with its sweet bliss, and my brain tries to decipher its secret code that is telling my body to sway and rock to the sounds of that beautiful guitar, or maybe banjo, or mandolin or cello.
Riding 30 mph on a mountain bike through a narrow barely visible trail past trees or is it a picket fence? Feeling my suspension soak up natures truly gruesome desire to fling me from my bike and eat my aching body with its rocks and roots that will taste blood, sweat and drool as I fly through the air trying to release my feet from my clipped in pedals. Praying that the rock I land on will have the graciousness to have been settled by a friendly coating of moss or other fall cushioning fungus.
Sitting down to a 7 course meal and not having to pay.
That first hot day that you can drive without a shirt on while blazing your way down back country roads and looking for sweet old ladies selling their wares at a local flee market.
Meeting anyone whom I can have a good conversation with for more then 30 minutes that does not include Jewish Geography, shidduch suggestions, future plans, and a bunch of other annoying topics that people choose to talk about when the awkward silence gets too unbearable and they are running out of ice in their glass with which to crunch on.
Eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s half baked, mint chocolate cookie or chubby hubby with a fork for breakfast while driving me car to go ski in some of that freshly fallen snow mentioned earlier. Feeling the density of the fattiness that only Ben and Jerry whom Unilever the owner of slim fast actually owns but anyway they rock.