My latest roommate, Liza Bambenek (who's a friend of Maya's) is off to Alaska for the next 8 days with Matt Unterberger's sister Holly (who is actually Liza's friend... Maya counts as more of an acquaintance, really) to celebrate her (Holly's) 40th birthday, and visit Matt.
Confused? It's okay, you should be.
The short of the long of it is that I would have the apartment to myself for the next 8 days, if John Traynor weren't coming in for the next round of the lawsuit with his landlord.
I took a break to eat my sandwich and read some of Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides. Holly Hobart loaned it to me.
There's a really interesting couple sitting next to me on some sort of date. I think. She's just had a book published, and I can't make out what it is exactly that he does. Thing is, I would have sworn he was gay.
But anyway, I'm listening to him go on about kayaking around New York - for enjoyment and exercise. And he's talking about having taken his boat from one place to another - with a guy he'd met in the Bahamas and abandoned him in Florida and left him to move his boat alone.
This guy looks like he's in really great shape, but I'm wondering if his circus might just be a few clowns shy.
He's telling her the story of how - after having been abandoned - he fell and hurt himself and had to limp into New York harbor by staying awake at the wheel for 48 hours 'cuz the autopilot was suddenly broken.
His moral: When life is too easy, the universe will throw you some curves to spice it up.
The idea that the universe cares whether or not my life is interesting enough is kinda frightening and annoying. The idea that when I'm occasionally coasting along the universe feels the need to fuck with me is not in the least comforting. I prefer to think that the interesting twists in my life are causal, not that the universe is out for its own amusement.
The weather this week has been woefully grey - and today is really close. Did I mention that I had purchased a window fan? It's done a lot to cool me off while sleeping, but the street noise is still working its way in. I'm still not sleeping as well as I'd like, and I'm beginning to look (to myself, at least) a little whacked and haggard.
Clearly, I need to do something about all this soon, but what, I don't know.
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