I’m flying from San Francisco to New York City again. After that, New York to San Francisco. One of these days I may try LGA, just to feel alive – I hear it’s cool now. A real quirked-up thing I have planned for one month from now is to fly, get this, from LA to DC. And then Baltimore to Boston, and then end up in New York somehow, and then back to SF!
While there (which city does “there” refer to? do you remember? I sure don’t), I will swim in a pool of seed oil. All the web3 builders will love my Everlane The Square-Neck Bikini Top and my skin will love the big hat I got at L Train Vintage so I won’t have to decide whether to sustain sun damage to the T-zone where I’ve been applying retinol or to take my chances with avobenzone and octocrylene trickling from sunscreen into my bloodstream (I used the camera in Google Translate to read the ingredient list written in Japanese but I’ve already forgotten what it said). The five-hour flight, plus the security line and Ubers, will force me to spend another day putting off having children. If I take the layover in Denver, that’ll add another day, but I might be able to catch the afterparty of an unconference, which could be fun.
I’m as bicoastal as I am bisexual: I’m not but you can’t tell and it doesn’t matter.
Typically I have to check all but two or three of my cattle into the cargo hold, which especially sucks now that airlines are doing all these super-basic economy tickets that charge you for a carry-on. I find it’s good to throw a couple horses in there with them to keep them all together and orderly. Honestly, the best thing would be to be able to settle down and not have to deal with this at all, but the pastures get seasonally grazed over, so you have to rotate pretty often.
You meet cool people, though. This one guy, I saw at four Bay Area parties straight before he told me about yon verdant valley out near Cupertino. My herd ate like kings. Like you’d be surprised how much alpha is still out there. That’s what the guy told me and I’m starting to see it.
You learn who to avoid. Magyar Mafia is posers, Hun Club is climbers. There are a couple co-living groups that have carved out a niche with sheep and goats, but they seem kind of out there. SF’s been a little rougher lately – lots of raids happening in SoMa and FiDi, even the Mission. There was a stampede in Berkeley, of all places. At one point I seriously considered just taking it all to the Lower East Side and going sowing with the girls. But there was no arable land within a five-mile radius. We would have had to go all the way to Queens.
The weirdest shit happens while I’m on these planes. Last time, everyone started using Partiful when I was aloft over Indiana, and now I’m hopelessly behind and can't figure out how to capitalize my name when I’m RSVPing on mobile. It's also one of those eerie stages where it's been a month without any visible new slang so I know there must be some word everybody’s saying that hasn't made its way to me yet.
Once I actually drove. Through hundreds of municipalities and unincorporated areas in America. The air was more real but the food was more fake. Runs were better but walks were worse. Cafes were cooler but libraries were lamer. I don’t know. It was pretty good. I’d do it again, but it takes a while.
Sometimes I come down out of my haze late at night at Elsewhere or Nowadays or Nowhere or Workday and I snap right into San Francisco. Wake up right there on my buddy’s couch at the same stage of the party even though it’s 1 AM Pacific and 4 AM Eastern. It’s funny and I can’t predict it. If I could, I would never book flights. I’d retire my Chase Sapphire Reserve and just wear a spoon instead. (Obviously I don’t own any keys!)
When I get there I’ll be riding six white horses and wearing probably that same big hat – it’s versatile because it’s halfway between cowboy and witchy (”lunarpunk”). When I get there I’m going to grab dinner with you and you and you. Then I’m going to post up at the coffee shop you recommend and take care of some stuff, all day. The horses will mostly be tied up outside by the watering hole, but probably one of them can fit at the table with me. It’ll do its thing and I’ll do mine. Every hour, we’ll check in.
“I booked the Airbnb for next month.”
“I whinnied twice.”
“I did five out of the seven modules of the zk-SNARK circuit tutorial.”
“I tossed my head and swished my tail.”
“I reorganized my Notion and I’m really happy with it.”
“While you were ordering a drink, I took to the streets, the cacophony of the city blending into a rich crescendo mingling with the pounding bass of my hoofbeats. My trot turned to a canter turned to a run. I leapt over the river in one soaring bound, landing in a meadow of the sweetest grass swaying in the crispest air before the tallest mountains reaching to the bluest sky. I vaulted the sun and waved to the cow jumping over the moon. I sired a generation of majestic mares and fiery stallions. When twilight beckoned, with a shake of my lustrous mane I turned to gallop toward the sunset into the waiting arms of the Earth-Spirit whose name I will never know.”
“That’s really great,” I said. “I’m happy for you. I’m working on a project I’m excited about, too. It’s not totally clear how it’s going to shape up and I don’t really feel the same sense of alignment and oneness that you do, but given that the cultural environment I evolved for literally doesn’t exist anymore, I think my friends and I are doing the best we can and I’m proud of us. We’re trying out some neat new ideas and if nothing else, I am interested to see what wild new directions the future will take us.”
“I totally get that,” the horse said. “I’m rooting for you guys. Let me know if there’s any way I can help.”
I got there and yet I’m flying again. For this stint I am (checking my notes) pescatarian, coquette/fawn/slavic/tradwife, and post-adjacent. Post-what-adjacent? Well, I have four more hours to figure it out. The oxen snore in the overhead bin. I count sheep (one to my left, one to my right, one in line for the bathroom). I open the window and spot the cow jumping over the moon. I open a textbook. Open a notebook. Open a Macbook. Dream.
When I get there I’ll update. When I get there who’ll be up? Will you meet me when I get there?