Our Lady of the Starry Heaven

Another one kicked out the door, and in a way I'm disappointed with myself. It is the job of the storyteller to related a chain of events, to weave together ends, and to coax an amasses value from the details of lesser things.

The last two weeks have been a restless stream of small currents flowing fast right through my hands. Happy hours, birthday celebrations, a new job. Deadlines, overcommitments, races to show up on time.

So it goes.

Saturday night I made pho, went rollerskating, then to the new Green Dragon pub whose appearance is supposed to herald a new destination neighborhood: Libation Alley. Despite slate tabletops and half a dozen colors of chalk, it wasn't great. My fries never came, and there was a snippy parenthetical statement on the menu that one should by no means ask for ketchup to go with them. This, behind a misspelled aioli.

Monday night I was so exhausted from all-day orientation at work that I went home, went for a short run with Erik, made dinner, and passed out on the couch around 9pm. I think that's the earliest I have fallen asleep for years, since being very sick.

Tuesday, in the late afternoon, I plucked up the courage to use the shiny, shiny gym here at work, for the first time. It was mostly empty, quite luxurious, and the weight machines were mostly mysterious to me. Although I do have a fair amount of gym experience, nothing is as daunting as meeting a new machine like the "rotary lat" and not knowing how to adjust it for one's frame. Especially if you're smaller than the average bulky male weight-lifter.

I should go into more detail about later in the day, when Donna took me out to Siam Society for dinner and afterwards, when we ran into the girl with "So it goes" tattooed thrice around her wrist... I should, but I don't realistically have the time to delve into the layers. With Donna, there are always interesting layers and coincidences and facets lending sparkle. All of these things have been happening so fast and thick in the past few weeks; perhaps that's part of the overwhelmed feeling in which I'm immersed. At any rate, it's thought-food for later nourishment.

Wednesday. Oy. I forgot to pick up my brother at the airport. Only I didn't realize it until I was driving to work the next morning. Although I am almost always over-committed, it's rare for me to forget something that important. It's falling apart before there's time for me to rest.