Want so badly to sit down and write about what’s on my mind, yet my mind is not communicating correctly with my fingers to type. I will try pen and paper soon. I write better when I’m not home, honestly. I think it’s because I’m not distracted and not inside wanting to be in bed. That’s why blogging never works for me and never will. I’m filling up my paper journal that I carry around with me everywhere, but that’s about it. If it wasn’t so cold out, I’d sit on the front steps and write some words there. Too windy.
I managed, somehow, to get tickets to three shows in a row for the weekend of June 20th. June 19th and 20th are Sloan shows at the Bowery Ballroom and the 21st is the Polvo show. Almost worth staying over a night or two in the city just so I don’t have to go home. Yet, I love taking the train home and getting back at 3 in the morning — especially when I don’t have to be at work the next morning. I have all that time on the train to soak in the show and take a nap and observe people that are drunk or sober or sleeping and put on my ipod and zone out. And then, the crawl back into New Haven, when the few people who are left on the train shuffle out onto the platform into the tunnels below like zombies with feet that have fallen asleep. Then the breezy cab ride home down a long street with very few red lights and attempting to keep a conversation with a man who thinks you go to Yale. And then finally, come into a quiet house. I dunno, it makes me happy thinking about it.
I think I’m going to reread some Kafka novels. I almost started Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, but I don’t think I’m in the mood for that just yet. Maybe after I tire of Kafka, which right now doesn’t seem possible.
Been listening to Mary Timony/Helium all evening.
Oh, and got a wonderful review at work today. Always good for an ego-booster.