magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

When I went into The Archive to check my email this afternoon they were playing Geoff Farina on the stereo system. Later, at home, I put on the Secret Stars. I went outside, it's cooled off, dried up, there's a breeze, it's a beautiful summer evening, and I listened at my window. And in a way, I'm back in high school, sitting in the Tracy Student Center, between lunch and dinner on a lazy afternoon, and the entire world is what I can reach out and touch. And in a way, I'm lying on the floor of my bedroom on Harmon Ave, my first time in Austin, while the sun, cut up into stripes by the venetian blinds, pours over me, and I'm listening to Ida, and they sound the way that it feels to fall in love. And I get to Karate's 'This Day Next Year,' and I'm on Transit Street in Providence, summer 2001, and I'm standing in La Palma Club in industrial Southeast Rome, where Karate are performing live, six months later. And then I'm in New York. And I don't have a job. And I feel sick every time I eat. And I can't sleep at night. And it's Saturday. And I'm alone.

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Of course things will work out. It's one of my oldest stories: short-term pessimist / long-term optimist. Yes, it sucks that I'm not really working right now. But someday I'll be doing something that I really love. And yes, it sucks that I'm lonely. But I won't always be.

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I ended up going out, after midnight, to Nadav and Gisel's housewarming party. It was the most RISD-centric party that I've been to since I was in Providence. Which was a little weird, in a way, but it did mean that I knew a bunch of the people there. I got a little drunk, mostly with the hope that doing so would help me fall asleep when I got home.