That Your Work Shall be a Struggle

I...am...so...tired.

But I'm owning my exhaustion, ya know? I mean, two jobs, RA'ing, graduate school; seems about right for a virile(?) twenty-something, eh? Yeah, but I got a ZipCar account, which is very cool. And a company e-mail address and soon a BlackBerry, so... I can deal with utter exhaustion if it gets daddy a new pair of shoes. Word.

I'm On My Way, I'm Making It

I mean, I'm not a celebrity-lover, but it is cool when you find yourself in close quarters. Like today, when Julian Casablancas, lead singer of The Strokes, cruised into work with his two dogs, Balki and Voldemort. Admittedly, I didn't know who he was at first. But he looked famous (o.k., semi-famous; they're huge in Britain). Tall, dark and handsome, sure. But more than that. It was a style, a manner, the way he walked and talked. Very affected, but very cool nonetheless.

Oh, and tomorrow I have a meeting with the Financial Times of London. Yeah, that's right, Big Timin'.

It was called Project X

I nearly ran into Adam Duritz, he of Counting Crows 'fame', while walking through the Village today. I knew immediately it was him - knew with the "immediacy of vision" - and this was corroborated by a friend who had seen him walking across Washington Square Park early last week. I wish I could have come up with something snappy to say to him as he brushed past; something like, 'Accidentally in Love? More like Accidentally sucked! Or some other shit that would at the same time reveal my vast knowledge of 90's pop, while self-importantly letting it be known that Counting Crows sucked. Eric exemplified the sentiment when, at a local diner, he found himself next to Matthew Broderick. Instead of sycophantically gushing over The Producers, or making a funny, but overused reference to Ferris Bueller, he, with total calm, said simply, "I loved you in that monkey movie." Fucking brilliant.

October is not for Lovers

October. I love October. The weather is changing; there's a crispness in the air. In the morning a fog hangs over the city, an ethereal blanket. The days are shorter, the nights are longer, and I don't feel bad if I just want to stay inside; October invites reflection. Besides, by October, school is in full swing, and I've got work to do. I want to wallow in my work, to feel overwhelmed, to feel like it's unfair that I should have to work so hard while everybody else in engaged in one or another meaningless diversion. I want to embrace it. October makes it alright to put on some early-80's emo punk - preferably The Smiths or The Cure - and drink alone. It is alright to take up smoking again in October; besides, the autumn winds have blown the polution out the city anyways, right? I love October because it doesn't care if you want to indulge yourself in solitude. Drop the extroversion - that's some summer shit. Put it away for a few months. Go underground. October is about being emo, writing in a notebook, drawing something stark in charcoal. Even the flavors and smells of October carry with them a rich sense of lonliness: smoke, rotting leaves, pumpkin. Besides, I look good in a sweater and scarf.