Eating...
Not much at home, but... Drinking...
3 ciders and 2 Cosmopolitans at Fiddlesticks. Writing...
Not nearly everyday in my writer's notebook. Need to be more disciplined, but it is amazing the stuff I have managed to write. Quoting...
"Ay, ay, ay! Senor Ding Dong!" -Bee guy on the Simpsons Reading...
Lucky by Alice Sebold, which is amazing, that I finally rose to the top of the NYPL waiting list. I figured, why read fairy tales about people who meet Mr. Right, when it's just not the reality I know?
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 drunk off my ass, as I believe the kids used to say in high school, but I didn't ever get drunk then. I feel so fortunate to live in a city with green bagels and a wacky Purim service in the Chapel at work this morning. I dig culture, perhaps because I was raised in a secular, generic American environment. I sort of envied my Jewish coworkers this morning for having a background of some sort to help bond them with one another. I'm all for finding connections where I can, but there's something to be said for having a place to start. : : :I went to Fiddlesticks tonight to celebrate my return to school with some friends. M came after 11 hours of work (so screw those with lame excuses), and Jamie showed up with his wife and a friend I'd met at their wedding. I was nodding off on a slight apple cider buzz when Jamie came in and bought me two Cosmopolitans. When he excused himself for a few minutes, his wife S. said he'd told her, excitedly, a few months ago, "Good news from Erica!" when I got into school. Sometimes, I feel so alone in this big, cold city, so far away from all the people I know and love and who love me. The cruelty of New York isn't strangers shitting on you, it's backstabbing coworkers or the benign neglect of people you grow to care about. Jamie is one of those people who always shows up, who encourages dreams, who makes me laugh even when I feel fatalistic. I'm glad that Jamie and M hit it off. He's a music and marketing promoter and she's a performer, it just makes sense. Only wish Cute Boy from work had made it, he's a musician with precocious maturity for his years. We talked about the impending war and I'm really grateful that I know people who know more about international politics than the simplistic "Us good, them bad." I don't know why the big rush into WWIII, but can only hope that the voice of sanity will prevail. We've marched and marched, I've lit candles, I've written emails, I've gone to Washington. The news can continue to pretend it's just 1,000 or 10,000 people, but it is millions of us around the world. I'm not George Bush…I don't have profit from war or oil sales; my insurance will only cover 5 more 45 minute sessions of therapy after today, no downers, bodyguards or a bunker. This isn't a war in a faraway country we've never heard of. We in New York can't forget that it started here. Poking the bear isn't helping anyone. I don't ask for much, just to put in an honest day's work, so I can eat, drink and make merry with the ones I love. Neither I nor the average Iraqi deserves to have bombs falling into our homes.
[Next entry: "Unsure"]
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