The Best Minds of My Generation

Last night we were in a dark meadow in Golden Gate Park, a hundred or so bikes sprawled across the lawn with red and white blinking lights, someone blasting dance beats into the night, everyone dressed like animals. Bats, unicorns, pigs, owls, giant bunnies, horses, cats, bears and for some reason, lots of cows.

Someone got on a megaphone and said, "I'd like everyone to pause briefly and look at the moon." We all turned to look through a stand of eucalyptus trees. The moon was full and gigantic. "Now let's all take a moment to howl at it."

Now. Don't knock it until you've tried it. There was something very satisfying about howling at the moon. It made me laugh, but it also felt very primal, as if the human howl is some vestigial call that our ancestors used to navigate safely through the forest and back to the cave with the wild boar they killed for dinner.

Also, it just felt ridonkulous, and sometimes ridonkulous is exactly what you need.