2005-04-19 - 10:15 a.m.
I've been listening to "XO" lately and track four, Baby Britain, must have some kind of xylophone action around the two-minute mark, because every time that part comes around I yank off the headphones and make a start for the door because it sounds like someone's rung my bell. That just happened.
We'd like to think, I suppose, that we're better than the weather, past it, beyond it, that it doesn't matter anymore. But that's not true because the differences with these seventy-five degree days lately is huge. Fewer clothes, more going on, outside drinking instead of inside drinking, landscapers working long hours (waking me up and staying until almost dusk). Speaking of heavy, I started doing exercises again. I have a medicine ball. I made up my own exercises. Also, pushups. And Chock-full of Nuts. Also, The Shins are here next week. And Rilo Kiley on the first of June.
Tomorrow is my last class ever as a graduate teaching assistant. After that, I can sleep with the girls, that's what that means. Shabow.
Party where there may be canoeing next week. Canoes are fine, but kayaks have always seemed way more badass to me.
Looking for extra employment for the summer. There's talk with my Baltimore friends of going north for what my friend Kevin last night on the phone called a "mancation." Talk of going north for camping and frisbee golf. I go away for a few years and those kids turn into frisbee golf freaks. Used to be I was always begging them to throw a frisbee with me, but now they go to the course a few times a week. I think DY's space brownies help them focus. Frisbee golf. Somebody sat down and made that game up, with improvised gear and actual rules. Anyway, they want to go to Maine, which for about five years has been No. 1 on my all-time wishlist of places I've never been but would love to fucking go to already.
I had a good writing day last night. It helps me the next day, I've noticed. Living is clearer. I wish I could bottle it. Can it, Mason-jar style, next to the maple syrup.
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