magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

Still no ads on the poster boards in the 14th Street Tunnel, but a few have been tagged. The alt-pop subway singer is strumming his heart out but silenced by the Belle & Sebastian flowing directly into my ears. On the red line platform I feel the arriving downtown 2 train palpably in my chest, as if it is thundering in on a resonant frequency with the beating of my heart, as if my heart was arriving with it, as if my heart were going to explode.

In the 34th Street station my music switches over to the beginning of the two Death Cab for Cutie albums that I've been listening to almost non-stop for the last couple of weeks. Out on the sidewalk, grey sky overhead, and my heart is back up in my throat. Death Cab for Cutie has been producing a similar response in me to the one I used to get listening to Ida. But it is of course coloured by my experience of this city.

They're playing in New York this Friday. While I've mentioned this to a few people over the past couple of weeks, no one seemed all that interested, and I did not make plans, and I did not buy tickets, and the show seems to have sold out. Once again, stupid Bean displays his stupid lack of planning ability.

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It's 1151pm. I was supposed to have done a number of renderings for Bank of America's rebranding of the Fleet Center by the end of day yesterday. Because of the never-ending Democracy Plaza, which we all know and love so well, there was no way that I was going to get them done. It was pushed back to the end of today. Then to first thing tomorrow morning. I brought stuff home to work on, but I've been treating this like a homework assignment and have been procrastinating and trying to rationalize going to bed and getting up at some much too early hour of tomorrow.

This may be the first time that the lack of motivation that plagued me all through school has manifested itself in such a directly parallel way in my work at PDG. It's an odd and not particularly pleasant feeling.