I refuse to wake up one day, look
back on my life and say, "I had so many dreams. Why didn't I ever do
that?"
I overlooked a field of wedding guests in an outlying Indian town, as
more guests continued to pour in the front gates. First it was hundreds and
then thousands, all dressed in bright, silken colors that the arid winds lifted
like thousands of tiny sails, until the desolate desert field became like a
coral-rich sea, flowing with crimsons and lavenders and baby blues. It seemed
that each of the guests personally came to the stage to present their presents
to the bride and groom, and they shook my hand as they did. (A Week in India)
I ate Christmas dinner with the respective families of a Muslim
husband and a Jewish wife. They all ate together, speaking in their respective
accents, picking which foods they could and could not eat, with large dogs
running around play-fighting. As a joke, somebody rearranged the letters that
said "Santa" on the mantle to say "Satan" before one of the matriarchs caught
it and put it back.
I got my kicks on Route 66. I shopped on the day after Thanksgiving
at Saks Fifth Avenue on Fifth Avenue. I walked down Bourbon Street
dressed only in a few shreds of denim. I crossed Hollywood & Vine. I got
drunk on champaigne on New Years while walking the Champs Elysées. I
drove the length of Zyzzyx road, and stood at its end just to say I was there.
I listened to Country on Music Row.
I swung the handle on a guillotine that had beheaded hundreds long
before I was ever born.
I partied in Los Angeles, New York, Washington, London, Paris, Rome,
Lisbon, Accra, Hanoi, Geneva, New Orleans, Amsterdam, Reykjavik and
Köln.
I chose the smaller house even though I could have made a few
sacrifices to afford the larger one.
I attended a dinner where the only rule was that all invitees had to
be nude. (picture)
I told my father I loved him.
I bartered over prices in an African village.
I fell in love with a girl on the playground when I was three or four
years old. I was rejected.
I have seen Ho Chi Minh's dead body.
I drove and drove across the United States, on countless highways and
back roads and city blocks, clear across the frontier that pioneers once lusted
after. When I approached Kansas City of all places and saw it on the skyline, I
began to cry. I couldn't tell why at first. Then I thought that the dream of
the pioneers had been realized fully, that their conquering the frontier was an
expression of their unbridled human spirit, and that America was a metaphor for
man's struggle to conquer nature. (Finding
America)
I stood shirtless, with arms wide open in the face of mountain sleet,
letting it pelt my body, just to remind myself I was alive.
I watched a man die, slowly, over half an hour, until he was
pronounced dead at 10:25 on an idle Thursday morning.
I learned how to ballroom dance.
I thanked people who made positive differences in my life.
I have sat in a Church with only the organist and myself, with a
private concert given just for me.
I made love to women and to men, younger and older, of many
backgrounds. I penetrated them physically, mentally, emotionally, exploring
them in every way I knew how, seeking truth in myself through unquenchable
wanderlust. I have been on the other end of that penetration in every way
listed as well, and through it I learned precious vulnerability far later in
life than I should have. I now make choices in lovers and relationships based
on these experiences, appreciating all of that past and regretting none of
it.
I asked Louise Mandrell how she maintained her sex appeal in front of
her entire audience at a show in Vegas.
I ate ramen noodles nearly every night for a year to save money.
I ate out every day for every meal for a year, save for a few nights
at the end of that year where I made ramen noodles just to remember.
I got lost on a boat on the River Gambia. (picture)
