timeripple | I am wading deep waters trying to get home

Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The library won’t let me renew Ovid’s Metamorphoses any more. *grumble* I’ve only renewed it a paltry six times since February; what’s wrong with them?

My cheap Venice, CA flip-flops died today. In the office. So I had to flop around like an ungainly Cinderella, until I fixed them with giant rubber bands. Woe, now I have no tacky bronze-strapped bamboo-soled flip-flops to wear with my purple shirts. All mourn.

Wednesday, July 23, 3008
I had to fill in an Intern Profile form today, having done the obligatory week-long procrastination thing. Mostly I spent the morning trying to make my photo look semi-normal, then stared blankly at the actual form for half an hour. What does one do with questions like “Tell us about yourself. Be creative!” and “Tell us about your experience this summer- what did you do, like, dislike?” and “What’s your favorite children’s book?” I eventually listed The Grey King and wrote something insipid for the other stuff.

I was sorely tempted to put the first two lines of Ovid's Ars Amatoria in the “Anything else?” section, because they could be loosely interpreted to be about books. Or a particular book to inspire a love of reading.

Siquis in hoc artem populo non novit amandi,
Hoc legat et lecto carmine doctus amet.

If there be any among this company who knows not the art of loving,
Let him read this book, and once it has been read, let him love as an expert.*

I took it out, though, on grounds of unnecessary pretentiousness.

Ooh, thunderstorm. *distracted*

I also pioneered dummy book construction this afternoon. This entailed cutting lots of paper, using double-stick tape, and bossing the part-time intern around. NB: dummy book making is much easier if the page images are all the same size. They really did turn out beautifully. These are probably the best-constructed, sturdiest, sleekest dummy books ever produced. The spreads even lined up across the center fold and lay beautifully flat. *proud*

It’s nice to do a good job once in a while.

SoHo, 7/16/08
Going to the Crooked Still concert. V. excited! If only I could find the venue...

The Bowery Ballroom, SoHo, 7/16/08. Later.
I wonder if, in a bar, the drink “cranberry juice” retains its usual meaning, or whether it is actually a code phrase meaning “cranberry juice mixed with something probably vile”?

The Bowery Ballroom, SoHo, 7/16/08. Later.
The music between acts is truly awful.

The New York Subway, D Line, Somewhere Between Broadway & Lafayette Street and 59th Street-Columbus Circle, 7/16/08. Later, Verging on 7/17/08.
Crooked Still sounded darker than the first two bands, more unified toward a fluid and common sound, and distinctly badass. The sound system seemed a bit off, though. The banjo was ear-piercingly loud at all times, whereas the cello and fiddle were scarcely to be heard even during their pseudosolo interludes. I must confess myself slightly disappointed, though even in an imperfect state they were infinitely more interesting than the other bands. I do love their new CD.

Thursday, July 17, 2008
Instead of going to see the final night of Nakadaifest, I dutifully went back to the apartment and made arrangements for apartment-hunting in Boston this weekend. Wah. Then I used a free iTunes download to finally get my hands on Non Nobis, Domine from Henry V (the movie). LOVE.

Saturday, July 19, 2008
I skived off work an hour early to get on a bus to Boston slightly ahead of rush hour. Lots more people skived off to see The Dark Knight. Or so I hear. SoHo was strangely deserted, that’s for sure. Anyway, I caught the bus, but the other passengers were so stricken by the lack of air conditioner that we stopped at a McDonald’s and sat around for an hour and a half so they could send an AC-functional bus after us. Lots of people groused about being suffocated, being late, etc. I would very much have liked to get to Boston before 11 pm, but found myself in a strangely Zen state about the whole thing. The sun went down behind the massive parked bus shape, there was a gentle summer-evening breeze, and the wait was generally quite pleasant. I simply couldn’t be bothered to get upset. Of course, by the time the replacement bus arrived, it was pleasantly cool and we didn’t need AC any more, so we all froze for another three hours and hopped off in Boston like a parade of grouchy icicles. Well, I was a Zen grouchy icicle.

Well, a Zen grouchy piece of sweaty chilled meat, is more like.

Then the wonderful warm wet smell of summertime bayside Boston smacked me in the face, and I was happy.

Monday, July 21, 2008
A lovely if tiring weekend spent in Boston with three of my very dear friends. I saw one room, which was in a lovely historic Victorian house and came with furniture but had no laundry facilities and was a bit out of the way. Walking around the Mission Hill area produced several phone numbers from banners tacked onto the sides of buildings, so I will probably be back this coming weekend.

After my sweaty peregrination, I joined the others at the mall. We spent a long afternoon drinking smoothies (real ones!) and trying on things, including several disastrous shirtdresses. While waiting around in Victoria’s Secret, I tried out every single shade of eyeshadow and liquid eyeliner on the back of my hand. I suspect I may be banned from all future visits to this establishment.

It must be remarked that I do not consider this a great loss.

Saturday night was blissful. The four of us ate Chinese takeout and ice cream with homemade chocolate sauce, and I learned many interesting things about energy-efficient houses. RR taught me “The Union Street Session”, which I was vastly surprised to learn is a Jerry Holland tune. I in turn taught her “Bulgarian Red”, whose awesome I have been extolling for the past four years but has only just now caught on in Boston, it seems. I also played her my new setting of “The Midnight Sun Waltz”, which she said kind and encouraging things about.

Sunday afternoon there was a very exciting thunderstorm. Unfortunately, this thunderstorm happened right on top of me as I was walking back from Porter Square to collect my stuff for the trip back to NYC. Once back in South Station, it initially appeared that Peter Pan Buses was having another of its “special” days. On further reflection, however, I suspect that they merely advertised buses on the half hour but had no intention of actually producing them.

Oh, Peter Pan. Every day with you is special.

Then I was back in New York and the warm, stinking night.

*I know, I know. Tweaking my translation to fit an agenda = Bad Scholarship.

...but it's so much fun!