city sidewalks

I really think I would. Wouldn’t you?

For all you aspiring/pseudo/beginner/enlightened yogis out there, when you really assess the pros and cons of a good yoga class, does it or does it not outweigh the carnal pleasures of raw, animalistic sex? Irrespective of whether it’s with a significant other or a stranger from a bar, there’s something about a great yoga class that has all the natural benefits of great sex – the focused, relaxed feeling right afterward (minus the craving for a smoke), concentration on your own body, it’s abilities and limits, respecting the space of others around you, pushing yourself beyond your everyday physical limitations – yet doesn’t involve the predictably tragic aftermath of a “who calls who first” debacle.

You can schedule it for whenever you need it most, you get to choose who guides you through your class (how & which style you’re feeling up for) and the best part about it is there are people who are both better and worse than you all around you, so you’ll never look like an idiot! With sex, there’s always the chance you’ll get proper drunk in a bar somewhere and then you wake up the next morning thinking “I’m sure I was alright, but fuck…I know I’m better than that, dammit! Why did I have to get so bloody hammered?”

W ell if you hadn’t noticed, it’s Valentine’s Day – the one night you’re supposed to spend with the one you love and I’m blogging about yoga on my sofa.

Alliteration comes so easy when you’re lonely.

That being said, I’ve got to put myself together and meet Michael Musto downtown for a drink at Splash. I’ll inevitably come back alone….the new Ian sort of sucks at hitting on strangers.

Hope cupid hits all of you lovebird motherfuckers in the ass

“Watch for good times to retreat into yourself. Frequently meditate on how good God is to you.”
- Thomas a Kempis (c.1380-1471)