So, I'm sitting in San Francisco coffee this morning catching up on the three hundred emails I got between leaving work yesterday and waking up this morning. Three hundred emails from the job I do not get paid for, of course. If my volunteer hours had a dollar amount attached to them, I would be either a millionaire or philanthropist of the year.
Sometimes I wish I was more of a free spirit. Like the guy who is in the corner of the coffee shop who is playing the bongos and a thumb piano. Oh, wait, now he's jamming out on an African drum and a the kind of flute that wood nymphs play. When I woke up this morning thinking of the work I needed to squeeze in before lunch, this guy strolled his happy ass down the street to jam out. It is quite amusing to watch the responses of the aging hipsters here at the coffee shop on Dekalb Ave. Some, like me, peek up over their laptop monitors and smirk. I see one guy in his earth shoes that he can only wear on weekend tapping his fingers and nodding his head in the way he probably once did at a Phish concert back in the day.
I will never be free like a bird like this guy playing the rainforest music. I bet he probably hangs out in sweat lodges, too, and only buys organic at the co-op. I imagine that this is the kind of music Matthew McConaugheyplays on the beach. I guess I can understand the appeal of his lifestyle, but this bird you cannot change. Instead of relaxing me, it kindn of makes me want to take his peace pipe and throw it out in to the street.
Actual bongo guy not pictured above.
