I *so* am down with o.p.p.
Dissapointment and nerves, the rain... finding that New Nanny resume.
To calm myself down I later realized I had bitten a layer of skin off the inside of my lower lip.
I suck on the inside ridge, pinch a tiny bit of flesh, press my jaw together, and then the pain shoots into the pit of my stomach... but I never notice until I taste the blood.
This is quite the nervous habit I've developed, don't you think? Nothing so obvious as nailbiting. I've got a neatly and discretely conceled mouth of scars.
That's so wierd. I'm so wierd!
I left to the City after dinner, telling my boss I had a friend in crisis.
Asit decided not to meet up with me for the show in Brooklyn, but he also was not crisis-ing too badly, either.
There's so much to this story that I cannot even begin to broach the topic. I don't think this person is a bitch, but she's a Psycho, and I'm really sorry, Asit!
It seemed like a good idea to just wing-it with the directions to South Paw. All I know about New York is from getting lost and then finding myself again, and this puts me at strange subway stations at strange hours, but I'll never forget what I know now.
Maybe ten blocks or more, in the rain, and my hoodie was soaked, and I was two hours late getting to the club to see The Weakerthans. Fortunately I was still there even in tme to see One Line Drawing do about seven songs.
I met a shaggy-haired youth who was the tallest person in sight, or, well - he met me. Nice kid who named "key" bands like Modest Mouse and Pedro the Lion. His band is playing CBGB's Sunday and that was his "approach". Lee, was his name... but he wore no armband and I'm getting old.
Not to mention, I only have eyes for Nick now, except for the fact that I have nothing on which to lay my eyes.
The Weakerthans were such a good call, and I'm so glad I went I saw them! You were so right, Nick, as always.
On leaving I took the nearest subway, which rode all the way into Penn Station, but I barely missed a train so I had to wait.
See, it doesn't look like I could spit blood, does it? My wet hoodie gave me a chill down in the tunnel, and it was just after midnight, and I prayed I would make the 1:19 train back home.
My prayers availed little, and I arrived at 1:21.
Those two minutes cost me two hours.
I didn't have extra cash to pay a city cab for a ride. That was a one-shot deal, I guess.
I ate some pizza, smoked a few, visited with a homeless man, and dozed off for about thirty minutes.
When I woke up my mouth felt full of copper. For some reason mouth-wounds taste metalic.
The 3:19 train was cold, and my hoodie is so thick, and got so drenched, that I shivered the whole ride. It would not dry out!
you'll get the chance to take the world apart and figure out how it works; don't let me know what you find out
I put Longwave in my cd player because it usually wakes me up pretty good, but I guess I should have picked Guns N Roses because after falling asleep at 4:15 I totally didn't hear it go off at 6:30... and it played for an entire hour before Vic woke me up to drive her to school.
So here I am: I'm awake now.
Must go cancel the rental car.
I'm not going to Giant's stadium. That's so unpleasant.
I'll buy a plane ticket for that wedding I'm in next month.
When I leave New York I'll miss a lot of things. A few people. But I'll never miss Penn Station.
I loathe that place.
My birthday is in exactly two weeks, now.
I'll be in Boston next weekend so asitwere, hapithoughts, and satchmo3 and I can discuss the new leadership position for the Evil Robot Army. I'm voting that we change our signature from "666 lines of coke" to "666 rounds of jello-shots". It represents where we're at right now, as a group, I think.
