Last night I attended the 25th birthday party of one of the yoga students. It was low key and full of wonderful people, and as we were joking about car insurance and adulthood it hit me: 25 years old. Damn.
I turned 25 in St. Petersburg, Russia, on June 5, 1994. I had cake and vodka and made out with a beautiful Russian woman named Janna.
When I was 25 I had been working at the bookstore for about a year. I lived in one of the worst houses in Grand Rapids, on the northwest side a block from the Parkway Tropics strip joint. I had hair down to my shoulder blades and drove a Pontiac 6000.
When I was 25 I was heavily into Ken Wilber, Tom Waits, The Pogues, Jim Harrison, Vampire: The Masquerade, Anne Rice, black clothing, the cafe scene, and vegetarianism.
I began practicing tai chi, when I was 25.
That was a long time ago.