Yesterday bled into this morning. After talking to Quinn I read until 7 am. I barely noticed the time passing. Around 2 there was ringing from the train yard next door. At first I thought someone was rattling the fence and throwing the trash cans around. That doesn't make sense, but night-noise is uncanny. It sounded like hammering and men laughing, my own Erich Zann, a buzzing soundtrack to the shadows through the curtains. When I looked out the window I didn't see anything, but I wasn't curious enough to pursue it. Close to 5am I noticed the light changing, but I kept reading. One thing I know about myself is that I will follow a story to the detriment of all else.
At 11 am I woke up and braided my hair. I was on the train by 11:30.
After work I ran along the river. There was a lot of stopping and starting. I never found my rhythm, but I didn't really expect to. I haven't run seriously in 8 months. My sweatshirt was too hot against my skin. The only time breathing was easy was on the bridge across Mass Avenue. The wind was cold enough that my sweatshirt didn't matter.
I came home and took a shower. I combed my hair out for the first time in days. I did half the dishes and listed to the Top 25 Most Played songs on our iTunes: Poison Oak by Bright Eyes (94 plays) and Colors and the Kids by Cat Power (44 plays). I planned to have gnocchi for dinner but didn't feel like dirtying the pots I just washed. I had peach oatmeal with dried fruit and sliced almonds.
I started to watch In the Mood for Love, but got distracted. I paused the movie right after they move into their apartments.
I liked this from the book I just finished:
"No man is brave that has never walked a hundred miles. If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection." From Patrick Rothfuss' A Wise Man's Fear.
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