Newton was a Lover

I've been working in San Diego (again) for the past few weeks. A group of friends and acquaintances are on their way from LA to somewhere in Baja to attend some four day long festival full of nudity, fire, and drugs. So, as they stopped for the night here to meet up with others before crossing the border tomorrow, I thought I'd include myself in their plans if only for a brief while.

They had asked me to pick up some beer on my way over and I was happy to oblige. This took up an extra ten minutes or so of an already short lunch break I was taking, and then I wasted another couple getting lost.

By the way, if you're reading (I know you're not) I'd like to again thank you, you thugs hanging outside the closed liquor store, for telling me where to find an open one.

When I finally made it I was greeted by seven or so laughing maniacs inside a tucked-away little house. The strange man in front assaulted my crotch with a rubber penis the size of a baseball bat. I'd like to think I handled that situation with grace and respect, as I grabbed the front of it and moaned deeply. They accepted the beer with many thanks and I passed hugs and handshakes around the room.

Most of my very short time there was spent sipping on a beer, leaning against one wall or another, laughing reservedly at one absurd outburst or another. These are truly happy people. And they're truly friends with each other to boot. Wish I could say it was contagious, but either the buttons on my tucked-in shirt or maybe something deeper immunized me from the infectious fun.

When was the last time I'd had that kind of uncensored, wild, giggly, fall down on each-other fun? I wanted to catch that bug, but couldn't. Sure, most of the people were strangers, but I knew their kind - I could have been as open and snuggly as possible, had I made an effort.

What's that though? Making an effort to let go? It seems equally logical and oxymoronic to me, but what do I know about it? I'm the guy standing in the corner at this party. Maybe I should ask the guy spanking people with his home-made leather tassel-whip...maybe when there's a break between songs.

It all appeals to a big part of me - the fun part of me, I guess - but obviously not all of me, or else I ought to be a lot more comfortable in these situations and a lot less reticent, as I'm definitely proving myself now.

I think, like most things, it comes down to thermodynamics and Newtonian physics. There's a big mass of heavily energized particles - call them party goers - and it's only natural their entropic gravity pulls me in and seeks to tear apart my lackluster being into exuberant chaos, regardless of what I actually want. It's science, baby!

That, and I don't often feel like I'm part of any great system of love or warmth. Usually I'm more of an errant asteroid drifting in between galaxies than part of a tightly-knit solar system. And hey, it can get lonesome out on the intergalactic prairie.

Really though, I don't know just how cold a creature I am. I do know, however, that cold-blooded animals seek out warmth more fervently and more desperately than any mammal.

Thus, thermodynamics once again proves its useful application to human emotion.