I was going to make a playlist for this post that matched the playlist on my jog. In lieu of that, aurally imagine Ceatano Veloso, Buju Banton, Temple of the Dog, Mavado, Ayaltollah, James Blake and J Dilla.

*

Put on my headphones and my worn-out jogging shoes, with zero plan headed southeast out my front door, followed only one direction: to go somewhere I had never gone on foot before. Two hours later I returned home.

Unless we are face-to-face, I cannot tell you what exhilaration it was.

I had a series of dreams about this path. I told people about it. My eyes teared once when I tried to explain.

I have a fetish -- an extreme fetish, perhaps my greatest -- for getting lost, especially alone with two feet on the ground.

Pavement, underground sewers, highrise skyline, graffiti, backhoes, floodlines, new tree growth, failed tree growth, trash left by hurricanes and by hands, refracted light on freeway ceilings, winter shrubs and ... almost ... no one else.

Days later I took a long bike ride with someone I knew would appreciate it too and not mind my focus not being on them --
but being on the land.

I carried my camera, stopped a handful of times, had to carry my bike up geologically-made stairs.

Didn't try to recreate (I don't believe in that silly idea) but to see with a tiny little bit of forethought and equal parts forgetting.