Restlessness

I think it must come with January...restlessness...the desire to fling everything and go off to tropical climes and have adventures and stare magical jaguars in the eye and listen to brightly colored, 100-year old parrots and macaws up in the trees and find treasure or at least a long-abandoned stone temple. It's either that or I've been watching too many adventure movies over the last month or so.

Reading: The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp. I like it. Interesting perspective on art from a dancer/choreographer. She talks about living in New York City. That may be just as exciting as the tropics in it's own dreary, pulsing, neon and taxi yellow type of way.

Ah well, I could just walk around by myself in Baltimore City in the middle of the night. That could be adventurous. After all, I read the newspaper (sometimes); I see what happens. Ok - maybe that would just be stupid actually. But it's probably no worse than my last post - running off to join the Peace Corps. Six of one, half-dozen of the other.