heathervescent

and visions of family danced through my head

The universe has given me a wonderful view of family life the past week. It started with an arrival in Portland - home to my brother, Chad, and best girlfriend in the world, Shanon; with another glimpse tonight in the form of an unexpected invitation to taco tuesday night.

Portraits of fathers and mother and grandmothers and Poppas.
Homemade cookies by 7 and 3 year old girls.
Hiking through the snow to find that perfect X-mas tree.
Dog romping in the snow.
Snowballs and photographs and laughing and sticking fingers in other people's noses.
Collecting river stones.
Digging in the earth to plant tulips. Life springing forth from bare earth.
Cabinets made by the father.
The singing game after dinner.
Blackcurrant tea - my favorite.
Sunday morning tree decorating in PJs.
Another no top sheet house. Fleece blanket.
A sleeping cat on a handmade quilt.
A pine table: candles, flowers, turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing with nuts, pumpkin pie with cinnamon cream.
Checking homework.
Dancing girls in the kitchen, their pink and yellow nightgowns billowing out with their effervescence.
Showing off home improvement - elaborate trim and crown molding.

Simple pleasures. I was delighted. Enchanted.

How come I didn't feel like this when I was married? How come I didn't want this with him? I know the answer, of course. It wasn't possible then, with him. Here I am now, wanting this domesticity - this coziness. The house, the red and yellow walls, my Pakistani rug, my chenille couch, my grandmother's dishes, my legos, my boxes of magic - 16 years of collected relics, my books, my red velvet curtains, my dark wood furniture. The purr of the mik-mak, she'll have to be a new crazy cross-eyed Siamese mix. And then all the unknown.

So who will it be, oh universe. Who's my next partner in crime? I'm ready to meet him.

get into the flow

This is a good wiki of the mental state FLOW: http://c2.com/cgi/wiki?MentalStateCalledFlow

Where/when do you get into flow? What's your flow experience?

mind bending

If ever there was a blog that was the tempting treat of the internet, the apple of my browser tab - this is it. How can I know my mind better than myself? Oh, it's got to be my best friend.

heated grips and firefly in the jungle

It's been freezing down here in the LA area. The north wind has set in to clear things up and cause a ruddiness to my cheeks. It's getting dark earlier as well, which bring the temperature down. Who would have thought I would be screaming for heated grips on my commute - but yesterday I was.

It didn't matter that the views were fantastic. It didn't matter that I was mixing up my routine by taking what I hoped was the 280 of the Valley (it wasn't). It didn't matter that I was finally going to be able to see the inside of a house I fell in love with. Nope. "It was my freaking freezing fingers.", "These aren't three season gloves!" and explicatives. I took the cold out by riding faster and lane splitting more.

That typed, it was a gorgeous drive up to Moorpark through Simi Valley, along the San Gabriels as the sky streaked blue and pink, then shot onto the 5, industrial wasteland. At one moment, I felt completely and utterly insignificant. The sky was black and the hills alternately a-twinkle of lights and darkness. I saw streams of red and white. I saw myself reflected in the yellow glow from my side lights. The yellow of my helmet. I was about to get onto the 110 from the 5 S. I saw myself as a tiny light, a mere motorcycle in the maws of the LA freeway system. I was not scared. I was so insignificant. Insignificant to those SUVs, those big rig trucks I so love to lane split, insignificant even to the sedans. I was a mere single light, a firefly in the jungle.

more dream quote

From W. H. Murray in The Scottish Himalaya
Expedition, 1951. There the text apparently goes:

'But when I said that nothing had been done I erred in
one important matter. We had definitely committed
ourselves and were halfway out of our ruts. We had put
down our passage money--booked a sailing to Bombay.
This may sound too simple, but is great in
consequence. Until one is committed, there is
hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always
ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative
(and creation), there is one elementary truth the
ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid
plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself,
the providence moves too. A whole stream of events
issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all
manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material
assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have
come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of
Goethe's couplets:

          Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
          Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!'

LA weekend - when dreams come true

Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a movie. Things just happen so perfectly that it's got to be scripted. This weekend I don't know what movie I was in, but it was living a dream.

One of my best friends came to visit me. I've missed him a lot. We used to meet up in Silicon Valley for coffee and books lunch, dinner at Mike's cafe with Maureen or hitting up the Asian markets in Sunnyvale or San Jose's Japan town looking for strange and wonderful treasures (Men's Pocky!).

One of the big bummers of moving south is lack of lunch partners. New company, new city will do that to you. So it was a boon to have an old friend to kick around with and share my new town. All summer long I'd send him emails and talk to him on the phone from my various LA adventures... and now was my chance to have him experience those things first hand.

It started out with a dream I wanted to experience. I drive by the Georgian almost everyday on my way to work. I see the happy people drinking their coffee on the verandah. I wanted to be one of those people on the verandah, so I made Mike stay at the Georgian and I met him for breakfast. There we were, sitting outside, the sun shining in our faces and it occurred to me that my dream came true. At that moment I was aware that I was experiencing my dream as reality. It didn't change my dream or my reality. It didn't change anything. I was just more aware. And happy that my dream came true.

It made me realize that dreams don't have to be big things. They can be simple and small things. Dreams come true everyday, if you let them.

primer iter paris

I took Latin when I was in College. It was three of us geeky English majors sitting with our new firecracker professor in her office learning vocabulary, declinations, conjugations, ablatives, accusatives and more. It wasn't enough to know the word usage was an ablative, it was an ablative of importance, or something else... I still remember those drill sergeant declinations of vocabulary with a fondness.

It was through Latin class that I was introduced to Satyricon. Pertonius's Satyricon - known in some circles as the first narrative novel. We read the story in English and referred back to the Latin (You know one of those little red books). One winter break in Kansas City, I discovered there was a film about the movie - it was by an Italian director I had never heard of. His name was Federico Fellini. Fellini's Satyricon was the name of the movie. This would be my first Fellini film. It's probably because of my fond memories of the series of event that lead me to Satyricon that I love it so. As much my memory and experience as the surrealism and reality that is found in Fellini Films.

Summer was coming and my life was changing again. I planned a trip to Brazil to become fluent in Portuguese. I asked my fellow Latin colleague, Elizabeth Sharpe, if she wanted to live in my house and take care of it while I was gone. (I had planned to only go for the summer... but ended up staying through the following December.) She did. And before I left she gave me a present. I think this has been the best present I have ever received. She painted a flowerpot in red and gold with the words "Primer Iter Paris" on it. She explained to me what that phrase meant. "First among equals." My throat still catches when I think of this story and when I remember her.

Primer Iter Paris does not mean I am any better than any other (we are all equals you see) it means I'm at the front of the line. I'm the one stepping off the airplane. I'm the one hacking through the bush, I'm the one plugging away at the keyboard, I'm the one with thunderlightening energy. It's known in some cultures as a nagual.

I am equal to you, and I will take the lead.

so much excitement

I blasted to work this morning - the top is down, my voice is coming back, I'm listening to my Roky Erikson tribute album. I am so happy to have decided to move and buy a place here and I suppose "settle" down. I think it's anything but settling... but we'll see. Alex was talking about buying a nice place where he could live ... forever, or at least a long time. This was an interesting reminder to me, because I used to so much have this feeling. That I wanted a house  where I could live "for all time". I had forgotten that's the way I felt about it. It's not surprising since I've been ungrounded for almost a year down. I've gotten comfortable with this freedom - however of recent it's been tiring. It's time to lock down and do some earthquake retrofitting.

I also feel like it's time to start being who I am again. It's not that I haven't been myself, but in this transition period (which is more or less over) I've given myself a long long leash from who I was. This has been good because I've tried on different personalities and taken a vacation from the person I had been for a good 5 years. That person is still who I am and there are characteristics of her that I really like and want to be; but I'm not limited to those choices and that world view anymore. The past few months have been an incorporation of the vacation heather and the pre-vacation heather. The selecting and weaving of characteristics from each skein. It's who I am. And part of who I am needs to be closer to earth nature... hence how good it feels to move inland.

My time at the ocean is coming to a close. I love the idea of living by the ocean, but the ocean is effective for me when I need to make great change; which I have been doing in the past year. What I need now, is grounding. And for that, I go to the mountains. I go to the trees.

There's so much excitement going on, on all fronts and the trick is to be sober and focused and remember what I want and do it. I feel like I can do anything - not like I am superwoman (I used to try very hard to be superwoman). Sure, it will take time, energy, hard work and there will be unexpected occurrences, ups and downs - but it's nothing I can't deal with. There's nothing I can't do (that I want to). The unknown and unexpected is what makes life interesting. It's what allows us the ability to respond.

biscotti

I've been wanting to make biscotti for the past couple weeks and haven't had the time. However this morning I found the motherlode of biscotti recipes. What choices. What delight.

a voice like sex and cigarettes

My voice has taken a little vacation all week. At first it was a mere day trip and Kathleen Turner's voice was left as a standin. Then Kathleen's voice left and I was the susurrator. Talking like the wind. I've gotten word from my voice that it took a little trip to Cambodia. It always talked about world travel and had a specific interest in SE Asia of recent. Cambodia was having a special sale on voice travel. But that leaves me in an interesting position - that of not having my voice.

I'll practice being quiet and not talking.

homebuying fever

I've got home buying fever. I have a limited time offer on the place I currently live and the time is running out. I just can't see the point of paying rent, so I'm looking into buying a house. I'm not about to plunk down what is needed to live by the beach and ocean and I'm somewhat bummed about that, but that is just because I have spent the entire summer living it up by the beach and loving it. It's also been a summer with lots of change and transition. Standard unusual.

So I went inland and started at another neighborhood I considered living in - Silverlake. The vibe is there, the cool kids are there, it feels like home, so why not live there? Hotter weather, further inland, no beach connection... but Griffth Park and closer to the desert and twisty Pasadena roads, crappier commute - same amount of time, less beautiful drive (this is all an assumption of course).

Then the coincidences happen again. There's the Los Feliz connection and my experience last weekend over there. Being lost in a city that is like my own. I had the same similar experience driving around it today. Uncannily familiar.

So, I'm watching this movie last night and it's got a scene of driving on the LA freeways and Alex says to me, "that's your freeway", and explains it's the 10 from santa monica driving east. I recognize some bits of it, the jump onto the 110 and then (I expected what I usually do - jump on the 101 to somewhat backtrack to a decent exit into Silverlake or LF) but no, the scene continues onto the 110. It's a freaky beautiful freeway. I've driven on it once or twice when I had the excitement of being Lars' sidekick at the Rubix cube convention at Cal Tech. The scene stops at a house in Mt. Washington. I've only ever heard about Mt. Washington from Alex. He's talked about that area being interesting and not as expensive as LF/SL. So I think to myself, I should check this out.

So I do. I got in touch with a realtor and got a bunch of listings. I did kind of expect the pricing to be less than they were, I mean, this is LA not the Bay Area. But whatever. I'll use my power and money to find the perfect house por moi.

Anyway, I spent the afternoon driving around twisty Berkeley Hills reminiscent roads. You know, the ones that have no middle line and you have to pull over to let the other car pass. I love this part of town. It's amazingly gorgeous. And I saw an amazing house too. But you know, you don't buy the first house you see, do you?

My only concern is the commute. How horrible will it be? I've got Lady Knight, so I can always moto it, but I hope we're not talking 880 styling. 880 has to be about the ugliest and most horrible traffic situation I have experienced on a regular basis. So that's a research item.

There are other fires on the mountain right now, but this is the one that's a burning at the moment. It should be fun and I really can't wait to have all my play toys unpacked and around the house. I miss my stuff.

beethoven in the mountains

It's funny how life is synchronistic sometimes and what my attention wavers around. I haven't listened to classical music for years. And I own very very few classical CDs. A few weeks ago, I put my copy of Beethoven's Symphony #9 in the car. I thought it would be nice variety to mix in with my classic rock, ambient, electronica, etc. I didn't even remember what Symphony #9 sounded like, but I knew I liked it, if I owned the CD. So I finally pop it in last weekend. It comes up on the CD changer Monday morning as I'm driving to my apartment in the morning traffic. (Yes, Heather stayed out.) Image my surprise when the second movement started and I immediately recognized it and remembered why I owned the cd. It's the movement that is used in Clockwork Orange. So I'm shifting in bumper to bumper traffic on the 101, 110 and 10 having a serious dose of synchronicity thanks to the universe (especially since I had just left Horrorshow Alex). Unwittingly getting the frying pan smacked on my head again (or was it my ass this time?) Synchronicity is not a coincidence in my life. Neither are coincidences. "Everything happens for a reason, sometimes that reason is yet unknown to man and the universe."

So the past week, I've been driving to work and Beethoven comes on. This morning it was on Malibu Canyon Road. The past few days I've found myself behind very slow large moving vehicles. I've been calm and only slightly irritated. I like to glide around the curves even if I'm in the car. So to get my smooth riding fix, I've peeled off Malibu Canyon and taken Muholland Highway to Kanan Road. This is a great nice short smooth ribbon of pavement with amazing view of these sugerloaf like mountains. I was blasting the choral for symphony # 9 (movement #5 / number nine, number nine, number nine) and pulled off the road at the cross. I was going for a hike in the mountains again - this time before work. Wearing the same flouncy skirt and high heels. (They must ache to get into nature.) I hiked to a flat cement platform that overlooks the Pao de Asucar mountains (a harkening to that big one overlooking Avenida Atlantica in a bay further south and to the east). I spend some time up there, feeling the wind, looking at the view and listening to the birds. I told those mountains, the shrubbery, the wind my desires, my wants and then got back in my car and headed onto work.

That's what living my life with more passion is all about. It's about stopping and talking to the wind. It's about taking the twisty road to work because you know there is a limited time offer on this commute route. It's about spending the night with someone because you may never have the chance again. It's about living in the moment and knowing you can die at any moment. It's about being alive.

Not eating at home brings good fortune

The last couple nights I've had the great good fortune to have two really good friends cook me dinner. I had fabulous homemade Italian at Gloria's (rigatoni with ragu and caprese salad - my favorite!). It was a nice evening spent talking. I started coming down with a cold/sore throat and she gave me this yellow Chinese pills. I love talking with her because I am always reminded me to never give up on my wild side.

Last night I popped up to Camarillo to see Carson, who is my best friend. I have such abstract affection for him. I love him dearly and care for him. As we both experience our worlds and refine ourselves and our desires we bang the rocks against each other, chipping off the rough surfaces. Don't jump to a conclusion - we're completely platonic. (It was not always the case, if you know the story.) Tasty chicken with beets and turnips. Salad with red pepper and toasted pine nuts. Conversations about relationships and living your life in response to the environment.

I can feel the energy in these home cooked meals. It's good for my throat. It's good for my soul.

what do I want?

It's a question I ask myself. I find myself knowing exactly what I want and how to get it and be it. And then, something changes.

As I experience the world, is the fine tuning of what I want. And that changes based on the landscape changing. I was worried about this. Worried that I could not be consistant. But I am consistant in my exploration. And consistant in experience. It's reader response. Or literally: Heather response.

But it's time for a new set of actions. I want my own place - my own space. And there are some other things too. More on them later.

pelicans

I've been watching the pelicans as I sit in traffic on PCH during my morning commute. I can't help but notice them. They lap their wings, they glide, they pause and then dive down into the ocean. There is a small splash and then the bob on the surface. I see them pause and dive over and over. A tiny splash. I see how they relax their entire body before they dive. That's the way to do it. Stalk, track, pluck your moment with a pause and then relax everything as you give a grand gesture.

I've been keeping this in mind as I live. I'm good at the stalk, track and take aim; but I can be more relaxed in the execution. It's not an emergency. (Nothing is an emergency.)

So that's the trick to sobriety. Aim with your complete passion. Be meticulous in your planning. Abundant in your release. Pause a moment before you pull the trigger.

city streets and memories collide

I took city streets to Los Feliz from Santa Monica last night. It was dark, the neon, traffic and shop lights gave personality to LA's very different neighborhoods. Santa Monica, Westwood, Beverly Hills (Thriller again playing through the good Beverly). I stopped in Hollywood to wash the car. The streets were not wet, but they reminded me of rain slicked streets. I arrived in Los Feliz village a bit earlier than I needed to, so I decided to explore the area. Check out the houses, get the vibe of the neighborhood. The first time I drove on Vermont Street I loved the area. I was meeting my friend Suzanna for dinner before the Pixies at the Greek Theater. I've never seen Vermont street during the daytime. At night, it welcomes me. It reminds me of so many places and yet none at all. I turned off the main road and started taking the dog legs. You know, dog legs, the streets that stop at a three way and then continue straight again after you take a quick jog to the left. I'm getting the feeling of this neighborhood more and more. It's Oakland in my mind. Oakland with lots of palm trees. It's a strange feeling. The comfort I have in this part of the city, because I am familiar with it's vibe from another city. It's definitely the Oakland I know at night.

I'm driving around. I end up in the Hills again. It's so much like the northern towns I lived in. I come onto a wide thoroughfare. It's so much like other dark cities I know. I forget I am in LA. I forget where I am going and why I am in this part of town. I am fascinated with this feeling. With this driving around, complete satisfaction and comfort and delight. Delight in exploring, in finding the newness in this city. The houses, apartment complexes, the streets, some narrow, some wide. The hills steep enough I remember to curb my wheels. I know this is not the cities I have known. I know it is a different city. I love it nonetheless. Its cloak is so close to what I know. I enjoy immensely this feeling of comfort and discovery as I drive around aimlessly, feeling the city, kissing it's city streets in a long meandering rubber embrace.

I grow tired of this feeling. It's worn off and time has ticked away. I have successfully gotten myself lost. I don't know how to get there from here. I attempt some minor maneuvers, but, I've fully discombobulated my brain and I can't remember which streets are familiar to me because they are the streets of this city or another. I'm stopped at Hollywood and Sunset (Mission and Valencia) there's no Odeon, but it's the same. I'm a mere 5 minutes away. The familiar feeling of Vermont Street. You take the exit from 101 and in a couple short miles you'll arrive at Farley's or maybe Jack's 62. It depends on which city you exit 101 from. Is it Potrero Hill or Los Feliz? The neighborhoods are distinctly different.

Writing about this experience now, makes me ponder about my emotions towards people in my life. New people in my life. Men. It's so easy for me to do certain roles very very well. I've had years to practice. And I know there are certain flavors of people that I like very very much. So like the city streets of los feliz, my feelings towards men. Familiar flavors, different people. Unknowns all around. And in my mind both; Enjoyment of the comfortable things and knowing there is the unknown.

My mind is calculating. Comparing myself to myself. Rubbing the rocks together. Chipping the stones. Polishing the diamonds.

life with more passion

I watched Hermeto Pascoal play tonight at UCLA. It was an amazing show. The energy and feeling of the music reminded me of music one night at Burning Man. I saw the music in the air. I saw it again tonight.

I come away from the performance with this one thought. ... That I must live my life with more passion. As passionate as I am... I hold myself back. No more. As of tonight, I open the gates of my passion all the way.

a photo of my aeon flux costume

I've noticed quite a few hits to my weblog with a variety of words in the title of this post. The men are chomping at the bit, they want to see pictures of my aeon flux costume. Well, here it is, I'll give you the picture, but you have to give me your mind.

First off, let's start with a description of the form the costume will clothe. I'm not tall, I'm not short. I'm unremarkable, except you can't forget me because I have amazing amounts of energy. There's magic in the shine of my eyes. And when you talk to me I may hit you over the head with various activities or stories that pop out of my mouth like soybeans from perfectly cooked edamame. You'll wonder am I for real? Am I making these things up. This person in front of me can't be who I think she is (and I'm not, I'm out of this world). The blonde hair has recently been cut short with jagged ends that become more pronounced with the application of hair pomade, wax and shine products. My eyes are outlined in black liquid eyeliner. I'm a fan of black liquid eyeliner because I want to live my life like a Fellini film. I want to be a living character out of a Fellini film - which is just to say, I want to live. Living is acting. Acting is exploring possibilities. And there are a lot of possibilities out there. And I want to experience as many possibilities as possible, regardless of the reality in which I experience them. (Random thought: I am enamored by China Mievelle's possibility machine, and of course have a crush on Uther Doul at the same time as I am transfixed by the Brucolac and would submit to his gore tax. It's a good thing I don't walk in that reality.) But enough, onto Aeon of a few nights.

Why Aeon Flux? What's the story behind my costume? Behind my perception of this character.

Since the first time I saw her eyelash trapping the fly on MTV as a teenager I was transfixed. She carried a gun. She killed men. (She killed women.) She wore barely anything. She worked for no one. She had control. She was out of control. She died. And she returned. She had the most fabulous hair I had ever seen. (Princess Leah couldn't even think about competing with Aeon.) I wanted to be here then. 15 years ago as a teenage girl. I dreampt. I would be the ass kicking, gun wielding, whip snapping, tongue probing, exotic, erotic, hard core, soft worn forever changing, never tied down. Constantly dying, always living.

I found a seamstress who was willing to make a costume for me. Her name was Taisia and she lived in Oakland. I brought her the comics, photos of various costumes and together we formed a pattern. We opted for the long sleeved, high necked top that stops just below the breast. Taisia suggested crushed black velvet. It reflects a richer light than leather or plastic or vinyl and would be more comfortable. She made amazing seam work patterns, circles, darts, seams around the breasts. High shoulder pads and a turtle neck that caressed its way to the lower chin.

The typical Aeon Flux bottom is a skimpy g-string. Of course this works in an animated short. For reality, it's completely unrealistic, especially if you are going to wear any kind of stockings or fishnets. And no, I don't really want to show all of my ass to random or not so random people. So, Taisia and I designed a bottom that was Brazilian cut with a nice "W" design in the front. She also made a belt that went around my waist and connected to the top. From the belt a bag and gun could be attached. This year, however, I decided against the belt. My torso is just not lanky enough to have a belt around it and get the same look. That's ok. Instead, this year, I added a fishnet body suit to the mix. Flesh always looks better when you have to see it through something.

So here we have me, crushed black velvet top, long black arms, tall black neck giving way into a mess of blonde hair that has the perfect "just got out of bed" look. Black lined eyes, with a touch of blue, black mascara on a pale white complexion with full red lips (talking to you of your possibilities). Your eyes can not help but scan down, they stop and try to find the angles/angels in the velvet. Your hopes of knowing the truth are crushed as the light is reflected to give way to unnaturally appealing shapes. The velvet ends and the fishnet begins. The navel, the shape of my waist as black triangle flesh tone again plunges into velvet. Metal rings, brushed buttons and then you see the patent leather. (Musical interlude: "Kiss the boots, of shiny shiny leather...",  "These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do...") The boots are the highlight of the costume. They are the highlight of my closet. With these boots I am an easy 6 ft. They force my toes, calves, thighs into unusual uncomfortable positions. The legs are clothed in shiny shiny leather to my upper thigh. There's but a few inches of bare fishnet leg, but it's enough to catch your breath, your attention.

And then you move your attention my hand, which is muted in black driving gloves. The knuckles pop out as a rare piece of uncovered flesh and a space enough for you to rest your lips.

"Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name." I'll give you a hint. I'm sometimes known as a not so famous and very deadly serious Irish water faerie.

You have kissed the hand of Aeon. The ever ending feminine force. Destructive. Creating. Your world in her womb. My world in mine.

Update October 2006: How to be Aeon Flux.

day of the dead

I'm living life like I'm on vacation. What's that? It's a frame of mind. The sky was beautiful as I drove to work today with top down and the best hits of Duran Duran blasting out the stereo. I admit, I really like some Duran Duran. It's a guilty pleasure. I'm rocking out to Notorious, Girls on Film, the Union of the Snake and Rio as I cruise on PCH and then into Malibu Canyon. The sky is so clear. The air is warm. I've got my gloves on and I'm thinking about a bunch of things.

I decide to turn off Malibu Canyon onto Mulholland. There are some really amazing hills/mounds just west/north west that blow my mind. I noticed a white cross at a turn out and pulled over. The winds were gorgeous and skirting the cliffs like a tongue across teeth searching for the moistness. I stood on the edge and the wind lifted my hair. I looked down and thought of what might have been a final wild ride. Probably somewhat different from my own personal experience. They were 21 and 22 when they went over the edge. Her necklace swings on the cross. I wonder, were they star crossed lovers. Romeo and Juliet of Mulholland? Were they in a car or on a bike? Was it night or day?

So many questions to ask on the day of the dead. I paid them my respects. I do enjoy the company of ghosts. Then returned to my car, tipped my glasses at my faint colleague in the passenger seat and pulled out, not willing to kiss too deeply the lips of my cold self seated beside me.

Being on vacation, one chooses what one experiences. And that choice is a choice that happens at every instant and can be felt as the wind on the back of your neck.