This past weekend was Wanderlust‘s “Yoga in the City” extravaganza, and can you believe it, we missed it! Not that I didn’t want to go. Hell, if I didn’t have to shill for “the Man” that day, I’d been the first one there, all lathered up in sticky wet goji berry juice, trying to peep some of NYC’s hottest yogilebs! For realzzzz. Our local shaman, Kelly Morris, was there in mortal form. Not to mention Dana “Teacher’s Teacher” Flynn, who no doubt filled the place with barrels of repurposed Janis Joplin “grooviness.” Can you imagine the fun!?
Anyway, none of us could make it. In place of our write up, feel free to take a look at VICE mag’s take on last years’ “Yoga in the City” written by the very delectable, Sophie Saint Thomas, where she refers to both anal sex, as well as the vacuity of pithy inspirations.
And, I quote:
“I woke up Sunday morning to a raging UTI (always remember to wash before moving from stink to pink) and was ready to run home by the end of the first class.”
“Why do pretty city instructors try to connect spiritually with their students using the dinkiest anecdotes? At Wanderlust a story was told by an instructor how she recently learned to caramelize onions in cooking class, and that you must soften before you can caramelize….
Come on. Yoga masters in India would be like “Try fasting, bitch.”
Word is bond.
Read the article HERE.