Loving kindness

I went to yoga tonight and came home incredibly energized. My yoga experience has morphed dramatically over the past year. After the breakup, yoga was painful. I cried in every class and then went home and cried some more. You go so deep into what you hold inside. You cannot bullshit yoga. It will unearth every last thing you are doing your damndest not to feel and make you feel it. It is better than therapy, though probably more expensive. Anyway, for a while there yoga sucked completely. It had always so centering and stabilizing and suddenly it was a source of discomfort and pain.

Lucky for me, I'm no longer weeping like a baby in class. Now I'm casting dirty glances at all the Sensitive New Age Guys in class. Yes, yoga seems to have lit a torch under my dormant libido and now there's a handy fire burning away. As Bryan Kest used to say, what isn't sexual about yoga? You get hot and sweaty and touch yourself all over with loving kindness. Easy for him to say--he had someone to go home and shag.

One of the things I liked least about Glenn was the fact that he used to go to Kest's class, put his mat down behind the hottest girl in class and hope for frog pose. Not that he's the only guy in the world who does yoga just to see women contort themselves in extremely pornographic ways, but something tells me he's not so subtle about it. Yes, that's the present tense--he still does it. Of course, now I'm wishing that someone less slimy would do the same thing to me. What a way to flirt--frog pose it and look him straight in the eye. Now that's a challenge if ever there was one.

In a total aside, let me just say how much I love the new Chemical Brothers album. KCRW has been playing it for months and I'm dancing on the couch now that I finally own it.

Scully is jumping all over the place, demanding attention. How can one fat, white cat have so much to say? Maybe she likes the Chemical Brothers, too. Maybe she's one of those dancing cats. But probably not.