it all started with hollie bragging over IM yesterday, i'm at esalen..in the baths. suddenly i'm back to labor day weekend in 2006. i'm driving a shit ass yellow rental car down the pch towards big sur to get my writing on at esalen for a seven day workshop. write your earliest memory of being abandoned ,says the instructor. so i bite the eraser off my pencil because there's no turning back. and i write until my mind cramps and my hand empties. then i walk up the main house and get some granola. there, all the couples taking the tantric sex workshop are glowing and huddled close, reinvigorated by their new connection. it makes me think of sting. it's impossible not to think of sting when you think about tantric sex. so i'm eating my granola and thinking of sting and trudie and sweat and sex and then joan baez sits down. my mother would shit her pants, i mumble under my breath. joan is slight, her eyes are clear, and she reminds me of what joan of arc might look like were she sitting at esalen eating granola. we sit silently, looking out towards the ocean, both emptying and filling ourselves at the same time.
on another note: i wonder if i could sign up for their workshop solo. hello. i'm here to breathe and orgasm like i'm strapped to a roller coaster, any takers?
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