It’s been a hell of a week, folks. As I write this I am safely back in the dingy confides of my apartment in Los Angeles, waiting to hear from a friend if she’s going out to get laid tonight or if she and I are going down the street for a welcome home nightcap. To be honest I feel like my trip to the East Coast was anything but a vacation. It was full-on sensation overload, packed from start to finish with good people and good times. From the moment I landed at Newark Airport until the moment I touched back down at LAX, I had no time to stop and catch my breath. It was everything I needed to help begin the process of extricating me from the depression in which I was mired the last time I posted a blog entry.
Now, that’s not to say I’m as good as new. I would never dare make such a bold proclamation at this juncture. But I am convinced that the trick to surviving any soul-crushing, heart-breaking experience is to immerse oneself in life, to spoil oneself rotten, and to pretty much shock your system in order to counteract the shock that initiated the spiral into depression. So that’s what I did this week. I didn’t give myself a moment to dwell, to take pity on myself, to worry about what was occurring in Los Angeles, or to think about what I’ve been going through.
From the minute I reached Jersey at 5am last Tuesday I decided to make the most of it. I met Hornet Montana for breakfast and energy drinks. Then I went to my mom’s vacated condo and slept on the couch for a few hours (so much for the energy drinks). That night my sister took me out to one of her favorite local bars and we reveled with old friends and new friends. My first night in town was quite a rousing success. I decided, while being driven home in the wee hours of the morning, that perhaps drinks with the word “bomb” in their name aren’t the best celebration ritual for me. Sometimes a simple high five will do when I’ve done something worthy of commemoration.
The next day I hung out in the city, walked the High Line, treated myself to a little shopping spree, and met Ian at Minetta Tavern for their famed Black Label Burger. It definitely lived up to the hype. A mixture of NY strip, skirt steak and brisket sourced from Kentucky. A custom-made bun from Balthazar Bakery. Caramelized onions. Cooked in grapeseed oil and clarified butter. Liberal use of salt. It was a unique and perfect burger. Perfect sear, perfect amount of juice, ungodly beefy flavor, perfect execution. The $26 price tag might sting a little bit, but I thought it worth it. Really, it’s worthy of its own review but I’ll save that for Yelp rather than bore you with the details. Capped the night at Vol de Nuit with more old friends and some new friends. I drove home happy.
Woke up the next morning and headed to Savannah, Georgia. Because why not? Mom was down there for the week with my cousins and their children. With new running shoes, shorts and shirts I was able to run miles along the marshland on Skidaway Island. The humidity was almost unbearable but I kind of fell in love with it. I ate more in those three days than I had in the previous two weeks combined. There were good stiff drinks, and reasons to cheer. More funny stories unfolded and more good memories were made. The South is such a unique place. Everybody runs at half-speed and they smile and wave at you and strike up conversation at coffeehouses because maybe you just look like a nice person. It’s an easy place to feel happy.
And on Sunday it was back to Jersey. I allowed myself one more night out with my sister. Today I treated myself to the best food therapy I know — a buffalo style chicken finger sandwich from Wegmans — and then, for the first time in a week, I could relax. For two hours. Then I had to catch a plane back to Los Angeles.
Oh man, did I live like a damn hell ass king this week. I spoiled myself and was spoiled rotten by my friends and family. I received nothing but love from everyone I encountered and found not a moment to lose myself in bad thoughts. And when I say I spoiled myself I really mean it. Food, clothing, gadgets, drinks, whatever I wanted I allowed myself to have. It’s all a part of the process. It’s a method for jumpstarting a change in one’s general attitude. That lifestyle is unsustainable, sure, but it is still a valuable tool. As I sit here writing this I believe that as weeks turn into months the time I spent away from LA will inevitably be viewed as the start of a fine, fine period in my life. Now that I’m back my goal is to keep myself from falling into old routines, to ride this wave for as long as possible, to extract everything creatively, emotionally and intellectually that I can from each day, to savor life, and to live like the king that I am.
