are brutal, even without Lauren's influence. ;-)
Last night: Eleven of us packed onto chairs and couches in the Greenport common area, watching "The History of Porn" or something similarly ridiculous that's even more absured under the influence. Everyone's making wise-cracks and laughing. Dom offers his house for my birthday party "as long as you invite Kimberly." 12:36 a.m. is the appropriate time for an adventure under piercing moon, deep blue sky. At 3:00 a.m. Family Guy parodies Mel Gibson and Dusty's put Deana on the couch. When I leave, the sky is perfect black and I move quickly over the sidewalk, bag in hand - the doctor is in.
And I'm a million different people from one day to the next...
Today the sun pierces just as much as the moon, but I'm barely moving. Spanish music on Pandora's the only thing to keep me awake (and Christina!). My fingers slip on the keyboard. I can only think of convenient gym closures and sleep, but neither will happen.
"I think we should go into business together and start a club where people can't touch each other. Like they have to wear signs that say, 'It's okay to grind on me.'"
The good thing this week is that I've put in the miles. Done real skills. My left shoulder's never going to loosen, both knees hurt, my left hip flexor shoots a nagging tightness down the leg, my back yelped as I turned quickly toward this computer.
And how do I feel? Fantastic.