Another sex column
Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.
It’s rare that I have a moment like this one, especially in this office. Dennis is on vacation. Brad’s out sick. Kat went home because the snow is starting to make the roads slick. It’s 3:53 on Thursday, and there’s not a light on, not another computer on, not a radio playing on the third floor or the World Headquarters of the Reno News & Review.
It’s so quiet, I can hear the hum of my computer, people walking around downstairs, and there’s only a little noise rising from the freeway. I guess the snow in the air is muffling the sound waves. The loudest things are my fingers on the keyboard and the occasional squeak from my chair.
So, I close my eyes and calm my breathing, switching to that ujjayi breath I learned in yoga. I take a few seconds and clear my mind, concentrating on the breeze in my nostrils. OK, no fires to put out. What’s on my mind?
Truth be told, last week’s cover story is on my mind. Dana Nollsch’s photo essay reminded me that there are people who have it a whole lot worse than I do. And I don’t say that because I’m consumed by other people’s misfortunes; I’m not that nice of a guy. I do know a lot of stuff. Sometimes my processor feels overwhelmed by the information that flows into my various ports. Fuck, man, some of those people are going to die of poverty. I know so many people who are in the process of losing their homes. I see so many people who are just trying to get by, but I know I get irritated when I see them greedily trying to gather power to themselves when they can’t control the power they have now.
Is that it, really? All this beautiful silence and my mind turns to death and disaster? Must mean I’m getting older, usually it would have gone straight to sex. Wait … it’s coming. … There it is.