Stretch: The Unlikely Making of a Yoga Dude
Neal Pollack
Language: English
Pages: 336
ISBN: 0061727695
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
From Neal Pollack, acclaimed author of Alternadad and The Neal Pollack Anthology of American Literature, comes Stretch: The Unlikely Making of a Yoga Dude. Here is the hilarious but true account of an overweight, balding, skeptical guy who undergoes a miraculous transformation into a healthy, blissful, obsessively dedicated yoga fiend.
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Chicago. I produced long, earnest stories that occasionally crusaded for social justice. In my experience, which didn’t yet encompass Dick Cheney, Osama bin Laden, and many other villains of the George W. Bush era, Mayor Richard M. Daley was the most evil person on Earth. But deep within my bowels, larger ambition brewed. I started writing little essays that made fun of contemporary journalism. They had titles like “This Albanian Life” and “Portrait of an Andalusian Horse Trainer,” and they
bandhas were strong. Next, Mara had John and I move into a position where we touched palms and crossed legs at the calves. She told us to gaze at each other. We giggled nervously, like most straight guys would when frozen together in a pose with homoerotic undertones. “Heh,” I said. “This reminds me of the dance they did in Top Secret!” “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “You know, the one where they bop each other on the head and then kiss on the cheeks and she says my name is Hillary and he says
stoned. The night’s activities promised to be huge. Two weeks before the conference was supposed to start, attendees got an email announcing that a Friday evening class had been added to the schedule. It was called Move and Be Moved: Music and Yoga with Michael Franti, Nicki Doane, and Eddie Modestini. If you live in Northern California or attend jam-band festivals, you’ll be familiar with the dreadlocked, magnetically handsome Franti. His band, Spearhead, travels the world mixing hip hop with
Across the table, Helmut raised his eyebrows at me. “How are you feeeeeeling?” he said. “Same as you,” I said. “I don’t thiiiiiink so . . .” “You didn’t eat any?” “Nooooooo . . .” “You bastard.” Later, Helmut, Gloria, and I took a stroll around the garden, looking at the moon. I realized that I’d horned in on their little date, but by the time we’d gone halfway around the pool, it was too late to bail. The hotel’s owner staggered toward us. “He doesn’t look so good,” Helmut said. The
into my inversion. When I looked up, I was staring upside-down at the smiling face of Gedde Watanabe, the guy who’d played Long Duk Dong in Sixteen Candles. I really, really wanted to say “Oh sexy giiiiiiirlfriend,” but in L.A., you had to be cool around celebrity, no matter how minor. So instead, I said, “What’s happening, hot stuff?” No, I didn’t say that, either, however much I wanted to. Instead, I just said “thanks, man,” and when it came time to give Long Duk Dong a leg lift, I returned