It’s hot out. I just walked up to Washington Street after blowing off Julio and Stine for a bike ride. Not that I didn’t want to go, but wasn’t sure if I wanted to go with them. Something about being a third wheel, and Bill doesn’t have a bike and even if he did, odds are he wouldn’t be riding it. I certainly didn’t want to go to dismal Liberty State Park, amongst the trash and garbage dumps. Just a drag really. I am still thinking about going riding, perhaps into the city, but having to deal with the crowds that accumulate at 42nd Street for Fleet Week is something I don’t want to do. Just read an article in todays Times Online about strokes. Scary stuff indeed.
Bill and I aren’t speaking for some reason. No bad feelings I think. Makes me uncomfortable. Let’s see, uncomfortable riding bikes with Julio and Stine, uncomfortable at home with Bill. I think about the only place I actually feel comfortable is visiting Frank in the hospital. That’s not a good frame of mind to be in. All in all, a really crappy Memorial Day weekend which is making me look forward to going to work tomorrow. I know I don’t feel uncomfortable there. It’s something to do and keeps me out of trouble most of the time.
A nice breeze wafts in through the open window to my left. No breezes on the street, only through 5th floor open windows. Maybe I did do the right thing by staying at home. To add to the general weirdness at home, Bill is in the next room doing vocal exercises which consist of just sounds, not words running up and down scales. Doesn’t really qualify as conversation, which is just as well since I’m not really looking for any, anyhow. Just feel adrift from most of the people around me lately. Wish I could tell you why, but I really don’t know.
Yesterday it was from not eating which creates some ogre type feelings in me. After I ate I felt better but no one was really around to notice. I did enjoy sitting on the pier and reading yesterday, listening to Rufus Wainwright. Now I’m doing some laundry, because it’s something to do. Pathetic, isn’t it? A situation of my own doing, so I really can’t complain. I’m listening to old Scritti Politti. Only 25 years old actually.
The plan now is to go to the river after the laundry is done. Also writing this blog hours earlier than I usually do. I’m definitely seeing more into the non communication between me and Bill than there actually is. No motive on his part, just doesn’t have much to say, which in his case is strange because he’s always talking. Just not now. Recharging his batteries perhaps.
I watched Pan’s Labyrinth, which was good, but I wasn’t as knocked out as I thought I would have been. Once again the hype overpowered the actual viewing for me. I’d watch it again but I threw it in the mail already. Now I have Babel left and I’m sure that’s the laugh riot, feel good picture of the year. I’m moving to Stars Hollow.
New York Times link
Cut and paste