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Not my fault you don't know how to drive fast, son.

This weekend: acupuncture and a cuddly nap; John J. O'Connor's opening at Pierogi (I found the work hopeful and meticulous); wine and cheese inside during a rainstorm; a little bit of work (This new book comes achingly slow but I like everything I am doing on it. But goddamn it's going to take forfuckingever); blowing off yoga; a rock show at Cake Shop with Hallelujah the Hills (They are the nicest boys in the world, and every time I see them they just blow me away, and they're getting even better) and Ford and Fitzroy (I knew nothing of them before and now am a fan, try and take your eyes off the lead singer I dare you); Jim Gaddy's birthday party at Loreley (There was candy! And then I left early because I was so not going to miss yoga in the morning); a late night phone call that finally changed my mind about the matter in a not good way; blowing off yoga again; a stinky bagel at the Rabbit Hole; biking to the east village to have coffee with Dave Savage; biking to Queens to babysit the little one for four fun/exhausting hours; biking home in the dark to watch "Mad Men" and go to sleep early so I can go to fucking yoga in the morning, and it is going to happen, you cannot stop me so don't even try.

(09/07/08)