What is it about sunshine that always makes me feel optimistic? I remember the first time I went to San Diego. It was Christmastime and warmish, and I was wearing shorts. And as I was walking into El Indio, I remember thinking to myself that if I lived there, I’d probably be a better person.
So, sufficed to say, it’s a sunny day in Iceland. In about half an hour, I and a group of my closest tourist friends will be taking the “Netbus” over to the Blue Lagoon, which from the pictures appears to be a giant hot spring/mud bath/natural pool thing – like Disneyworld’s River Country, but without the slides. I was feeling a little down to learn that it’s sunny and 90’s at home, and the realization that I left a fair amount of creature comforts (including a swimming pool!) behind to freeze my behind off and slum it up in Northern Europe was bumming me out. Actually, I’ve been down on myself altogether – fantasizing about return tickets home – but I’m determined to tough it out a little more than four days!
The odds that I will hunker down and write the great American (or wherever) novel go up the more I subject myself to extreme alone time (and occasional loneliness)! Plus, this little experiment wouldn’t be much of a story for the grandkids if I bailed after four days… And perhaps most importantly, I’ve done this to give myself a shot at making a career as a writer rather than a banking consultant, and although I’m arguably going about it the hard way, I still want to follow the yellow brick road and see what happens.
Meanwhile, and unrelated, somehow yesterday’s post generated an (allegedly randomly) link to a trailer for a documentary called “The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill,” which – in my opinion – looks fascinating. I watched it (trailer) twice. I particularly like the little guy grooving to the music at the end! Worth checking out if you have two minutes to spare: http://cnettv.cnet.com/9742-1_53-12299.html?id=12299&tag=sphere_mrss&clientid=sphere&part=sphere
In other news, Iceland is expensive. Goddamned expensive. A thing of yogurt clocks in at around $2.30. A beer – a SINGLE beer – at the pizza place by the guest house was almost $15.00!?!? No wonder Icelandic women have a reputation for being casual about sexual relations – you more or less have to put out after someone spends $600 buying you dinner and drinks!!!
Now don’t get me wrong, it’s a gorgeous place and all, but I’m getting antsy to move on. I was in the lobby looking at postcards and there were a few of glaciers floating in the water, and I thought to myself, “Glaciers. You seen one, you seen ’em all.” As a result, I’m starting to worry that something said to me recently is true: Nothing impresses me.This was said sweetly, mind you, even affectionately, but about six weeks ago, I distinctly remember Brad remarking that – through no intention or conceit – I remain unflappably unimpressed. True, I have subjected myself to more insanity than most people, and I have a tremendous capacity to attract extraordinary circumstances and bizarre people, but is it possible to have really been there, done that to the degree that there’s nothing left to do, see, or be!?!?
Is this the fate of the examined life? Total and complete nonchalance?