I feel the same way about city life as I do about any of life's great excesses; one can only handle so much before the proverbial debauched cup runneth over. Jamming an overabundance of stimulation down my gullet seems to bring me further and further away from and that inner-peace thing that everyone is always yammering on about, even if it is a damn good time. Don't get me wrong, I fucking love New York with all my heart and soul, and if I wasn't such a gluttonous beast maybe I could even reside there full time, but I also need the original beauty that is mother nature in her best party dress, and like coming home to mother, California's central coast gives me all that and more. This place will always be my home no matter where I'm currently living, and knowing it is there for me amidst the chaos is my safety blanket that's always held close to my heart. If you have one thing, you always want the other - the grass is always greener thing is older than time, but when I'm sitting with my feet in the sand, saltwater in my hair, and absent are the sounds of everything but wind in the trees, and waves on beach, things couldn't get much greener. It may sound like a farce, how could the solemnity of soundless nights not filled with RSVP's, gratuitous champagne, and air kisses be better than the raucous carousing the big cities can offer up? Thoreau said "As you simplify your life, the law of the universe will be simpler," and I'm starting to think he knew what he was talking about.
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