It’s all nonsense

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Sometimes, when I’m in a dark mood and feeling like excrement, I get in my  “It’s all nonsense” mood.

If you’ve read this blog with any sort of regularity, you know whereof I speak. This is nonsense. That is nonsense. Religion. Sports. Politics. Entertainment. The guy sitting next to me. The whistler.

All nonsense.

As I write this, I’m in a dark mood. I drove about 1 1/2 hours this morning to spend the day and night working in my favorite LA coffee shop—only to find it closed for repairs. So now I’m in some artsy cafe where an iced coffee ran me $5.25. And, to my left, are three women. Two want something. One is offering something. The two who want something are short and schlubby. The one offering something looks like Heidi Klum. She’s dressed perfectly. I’m not listening in, but … OK, I’m listening in. The two who want something are requesting the woman who is offering something to represent their yoga-related project. And the woman offering something believes yoga can change the world. She just wants to give back and she believes in self empowerment and she thinks her message should be heard and the world can be more beautiful if we all hold hands. “I want a yoga movement,” she says. The two women who want something are intently listening, though I’m guessing—in their heads—they’re thinking either, “This chick is crazy full of herself” or, “Jesus Christ, these shoes hurt.” But the woman offering something keeps talking about her magazine appearance, her TV opportunities, her classes and what yoga can offer and yoga can do.

Which makes me think, perhaps, I need yoga.