Thursday, July 22, 2004

Biked home last night in record time. Record time, do you hear me? From Evanston to my place in just under 30 minutes. My body is starting to remember how I used to ride when I first moved up a full sprint the entire time. Speaking of riding when I first moved up here, I took the old bike, the Schwinn, in to get it tuned up and juiced up: I gave it to Lucy. It's been in the basement since August 2000, when I upgraded to the Trek; I rode Old Blue down to On The Route to get it fixed up and realized how tiny the frame is for me. I am not a big guy but that bike was wee. Goddamn wee, fit only for nymphs and leprechauns

This morning: good ride. A few weeks back, I'd given this Japancakes mix cd (an aborted member of the Obsession cds) to the red-haired girl behind the counter. I'd come in a few times when she was working and she was always playing something slightly obscure that I'd long liked (i.e. Mason Jennings) so I thought I could turn her on to the irritating beauty of Japancakes.

Work was deadly again today. A six hour teleconference with the publishers down in Florida. It was excruciating. I cannot wait to leave this place.

More packing tonight...more books, more clothes. Some kitchen stuff. It just never stops and I pack like Joyce must have, in a kind of stream of consciousness...I start in one room, walk into the other to grab something and then become absorbed in packing/tossing shit out in that room...then I find a old letter or a photo of a old girlfriend and I have to sit down and reminisce. Then I have to grab a glass of wine and watch TV a bit. Moving is my Ulysses.

Took my melatonin just a few minutes ago. It's starting to hit already...I want to catch another ten minutes of Guess Who's Coming to Dinner; I'm not crazy about it but I'll watch just about any movie pre-1980 just to fill up the holes in my pop culture knowledge.

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