i went in to yesterday doing all kinds of counting - i counted miles and REMs and responsibilities and commitments and connections and pages..but not calories.
i definitely did not count calories (good thing too, cause those cream sodas were real good. and those donuts, too) ...
but sometimes i count and list and stack and order
when all i'm really supposed to do is watch, just watch. that's all.
it's really pretty simple when you take the math out of the equation.
(get it?... equation?... man, i'm good)
really, what i'm trying to say is if i hadn't stopped counting,
i would've missed a really great night.
[author's note: this will most likely be a recurring theme in these chapters]
And so, when the numbers stopped, i heard my friends laughing, moving forward onto a beach access road with fog falling thick enough to drink. And i heard Mitch's playlist, perfectly and appropriately narrating our respective adventures through blown-out backseat speakers. And i heard Tyler(the other one)'s tongue react to his experimental coffee drink brewed far too hot to the warm clink of the black and white sounds of the Gypsy Den piano. And i heard an accordion, a cowbell, and dancing. And i saw two men hang out of the second-story window, looking down at us, half swaying to the sounds from inside. And i saw them wave us up.
So up we went.
everything's ever only exactly as it's supposed to be.
And so, in the end, when the numbers stopped, I heard a great story.
I didn't hear a full night's sleep, or a shrinking list, or a finished book,
but I heard a great story.
(and a little mariachi, too)
*recently, when I'm not listening to mariachi, i'm listening to this or this or this.
**also, i got the photo from here