“It’s a tradition,” I said.
“You know how I feel about tradition,” she said. “You keep that shit at home,” and it was one of the more profound things I’d heard in a while.
As I walked out of my yoga studio today, the guy from the pizza shop next door on his cigarette break said to me today, “Shit man, you do yoga? Are you like all flexible and shit? Can you like, bend over and make fart noises with your mouth on your belly?”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes I can.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s really awesome.”
I was getting a new phone number assigned to me recently. I told the operator that my brother was a little slow and I needed something easy to remember in case anything came up. My number now: 234.3455.