dried ancho chillis

Life can be chaotic. In fact, it almost always is, in some way. We're always trying to get to some point we haven't reached yet, buy something we don't own, go somewhere we haven't been, or kiss someone we haven't met. Human nature and satisfaction don't really seem to mix, at first glance. After all, what is life except what we do between transitions? Sometimes it seems like existence is nothing but a cycle of getting what we want, then losing it and finding something else again.

We're really all just looking for stability, even though none of us can define what that really means. Stability can be a month's rent, or sitting in your new home after you've moved everything in, or waking up with someone over and over and over. It can be gasping for air when your head comes out of the water. It can even be letting go every once in awhile, and just seeing what happens, even though no one likes to admit it.

What life really ought to be is a mixture of chaos and stability. Legume Bistro is a constant for me. It's a ritual, a bike ride the same way every day, a smell that I can never forget. But it's also hectic, painful, overwhelming, and sometimes it can seem short-term. It's a lot like love, or friendships, or school, or like being in a band. We have good times and bad times.

I know I haven't written a lot in the past month, or in the past year or two for that matter. I need to start again. Talking about life like this is a tremendous source of rationality and makes me understand why people write in their journals about the stupidest little things. It's good as something to reflect on, but more importantly, I think it tells me about who I am right now.

Right now I am John Gray Heidelmeier. I am the sous-chef of a very young restaurant. I'm not a bad cook, but I have a lot to learn about food and managing people. I love cooking unconditionally but don't know if it's what I want to do for the rest of my life. I want to sing again and if I could ever make a career out of it, I would.

I love bicycles, because they make me feel like I'm flying. Also, they're full of moving parts that are fun to disassemble and they make me feel strong. The cycling community is also completely riddled with beautiful, long-legged women.

I live in a very big apartment that I'm really proud of with a girl who I split up with recently. I had a really good time with her, and learned a lot about myself, but it couldn't last, and was something I did as a result of one of those transitions in my life. We actually make pretty good roommates, although she's moving out eventually. Diane and I are back together now. We made pancakes this morning, and I dug up my plants from the garden and put them back in my pots so they'll stay alive when it gets cold. I love her.

I love Pittsburgh. I think I'd be okay with living here for a few more years in its charming, unique little neighborhoods. The public transit is pretty good. I might want to go to New York, but I don't want to live far outside the city or pay half my income to my landlord. In any case, a place with flatter, more well-maintained roads could work out. Wheels, tires and tubes are expensive.

I don't really like going out too much. I am most in my element at home, leaning over the stove or having a few beers or being with someone I love. I also love sitting in coffeehouses like this one, where I like to clear my mind of all the crazy shit floating around in it. I'm not crazy about people, and only have a few close friends who I choose carefully.

I am very, very monogamous. I'm also a little bit old-fashioned. I like to open doors for women and take care of them a little bit, and consider modern feminism to be a little scary.

I'm kind of a nihilist, and don't really try to save the world. I believe it's going to end, maybe in my lifetime and maybe not, and all I really give a shit about is having a good time before, and maybe after that happens. As much as I try to ride my bike because it saves the planet, it's really because I never got a driver's license, could never afford a car, and don't want to get fat. I still go to the local grocery store and then throw away my plastic bags when I get home.

So, that's who I am, and that's what life means to me. I guess it's been awhile since I've stepped back a little, you know?