2007-03-13 - 12:58 a.m.
My birthday is coming soon and my girlfriend rented a room in a historic hotel in Annapolis for Saturday night. Today, she said, "We're going to do it in a dead guy's bed this weekend." She's much better at finding out new things to do, novel things. And I like these activities she seeks out for us, these new places to check off our list. If I did the planning, we'd be like the guys in "Shaun of the Dead," always going to the equivalent of the Winchester. I think everyone's a mix of the comfortable and the fresh. I err on the side of comfortable, for sure, but now and then I go through jolts of the other, talking to strangers on the street. But I tend to find plenty of stimulation in what's within arm's length. I feel like I'm missing something if I go too far, if I divert my attention too much.
That philosophy's not stopping me from lately buying more music than I can listen to and for sure more books than I can read. I'm having trouble getting started on Safran Foer's "Extremely Loud" because it feels so much like his first one. But last night I sat down and listened to the Beirut album and now I can't stop humming the song "Postcards from Italy." It's beautiful and sad and don't those two, when together, pack some kind of punch?
My older brother got a job. He's full-time bartending at a crab house/restaurant in Fells Point. I hope he doesn't find a reason to quit or to not go. I should have more faith in him.
The girl and the dog are both asleep in my bed. She doesn't stay here--I don't blame her and I stay at her place a lot--but her apartment's getting its annual extermination treatment tomorrow. She wakes up abruptly sometimes, sits up, and finishes the thought in her head. A couple of nights ago it was, "He was speaking in a voice of a...of a...what's the word?" And then she laughed, lay back down, and fell back asleep.0 comments so far