The hills are alive. . .

... with the sound of traffic and locomotive whistles rising up from the town below. Yesterday, after my morning coffee at the Beanery (where many Koreans were reading the Bible over their lattes. . . yesterday was Sunday. . .) I started walking back to my place, and instead of going home, I just kept walking. Up Russell Street, towards the Claremont Hotel, and then to the trails off of Tanglewood Drive. I had this enormous sense of energy, and my legs felt like a dog that hasn't been properly played with in a long time (don't know if that analogy works, working on my analogies). Don't know if my feelings were due to the caffeine, or the sudden appearance of the sun, or the fact that I just started my Lexapro, or simply the adrenaline rush of exercising after months of being rather lethargic. Probably some combination of all of the above.

Well, I found a nice rock to sit on, with a view of the Bay. The city was shrouded in mist, but Alcatraz was clear enough. I thought about the prisoners that used to be incarcerated there, and I realized how lucky I am to be free. Free as one can be when one isn't behind physical bars, that is.

I found a stick, and then I began throwing the little acorn-like things that littered the ground into the air and tried to hit them. Hitting something small with a thin stick isn't easy, but I was determined. I tried to use the all the Jedi-training I could remember from the movies. I tried to recall the few times I went to the batting center with Laura in Shinjuku. And finally, I was able to hit several in a row, a beautiful arc, descending into the canyon below. I knew there might be trails down there. I didn't care. No matter how I looked, swatting at the air with a stick, tapping a stick on the hard earth at my feet, drawing circles a the stick in the dirt the dirt, I didn't give a shit. People were walking their dogs, coming up and down the fire-trail behind me, talking on their cell-phones, talking to each other, no one content to just be alone, no one content to just be. My back was turned to them all. Right there, for that moment, I had my world. I was facing forward, fearless.

And when the high got to be too much, I started dialing just like the rest of them. Left messages for three people. My brother called me back as I started to descend.

The cellular takes the edge off.

No matter how good you feel, no one wants to feel good by themselves.