Hold me, I'm changing

When I think of change I think of Albin de la Simone's lyrics "tu vois, j'ai changé, j'ai changé, j'ai changé, ne t'inquiete pas (You see, I've changed, ..., don't worry)" followed by some dreamy Yiddish-sounding fiddling or vocals, depepending on the version (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CRIXcCT_jEk.) Tonight as I approach ten o'clock with scarcely experienced energy levels, I feel the metamorphosis of a change. It feels a little like adaptation or maybe devolving, and I'm happy to have noticed it. The abstract: I think a kind series of events is extracting the last of my twenties out of a previously sealed orafice.

I just got my last lick of ice cream before I had to rescue it to the freezer in semi-fondu form. Now time for the chocolate, whose melt-time still pales to that of glass but beats the ice cream soundly on a cool evening. The ice cream is in fact vanilla soy paired with mango sorbet, which is one of TJ's few foods worth buying more than once. My first bite of chocolate reminded me of eating some just a moment before. I haven't had any since last night, though, so I either lost a day between bites or I snuck a bite upon retrieval from the cupboard when my mind was still on the ice cream.

Avoiding the topic of change, you see, is tempting because change is as difficult to describe as it is to force. But to get to the body of my thesis, I'll say that I feel more grounded in a world that looks to get out of the culture I live in. Counter-culture maybe then. Nah, that sounds too rebellious. I feel like someone who walks through traffic everyday and can't wait to climb a hill with my concertina and a backpack and sing to the wind, and finally then burrow into my sleeping bag and listen for predators. Maybe this is just another hippy in the meadow vision. I like the idea of grabbing a handbook and learning how to forage for food in my ecosystem, and then being able to write poems about taking the modern out of the man. Maybe it isn't a unique moment of naturalistic yearning, but it's my moment, and this time it's packing heat. My past jaunts with nature have been jovial but hands-off. I think that's why I tell people I like winter weather. It's me asking for nature to throw something real my way and I'll manage, thank you very much. I'm not trying to express any desire to starve, freeze, or become carnage out in the wild buff, in fact I'd rather be as comfortable as possible. All I want is to apply my sensory organs to something natural for that will leave some lasting memories.

I have a couple nature weekends on the mental calendar, one involving a boat and the other the bike. I think I need to add a third trip that has only one provision: me. It's time for me to do a little camping by myself for a night and see what happens. Just me and a trusty three-course meal to keep me warm inside. I'll hike in a couple miles and settle down somewhere serene where I can read my iphone by the light of the gas stove fire as I digest cheesecake smores (107K hits on google for that original idea.) When my iphone expires I'll cross my legs and lie still and listen. In the morning I'll leave any lingering doubts about my twenties in a little hole with the folding trowel.