September 23th, 2001.  Sunday

 
    On Thursday night, around 5am, I was woken by the loudest thunder storm I've ever heard in my life.  It might've actually been the loudest thing I've ever heard.  Even the rain, which is usually sort of soothing no matter how hard it's pouring, seemed sinister and ominous.  It was coming down hard.  Then the thunder clap.  It had to have been right over Park Slope.  All the roommates, I found out later, were also roused by this thunder.   Though I first recognized it as thunder, my second thought was that something had exploded.  Like a bomb had gone off, or another plane had exploded, but this time right down the street. Dylan turned on the news to make sure.  Then, when I was sure it was thunder, it was just scarier.  I thought for sure it was some ominous and ghastly force, and I'd open my eyes and see some ghoul in my room illuminated by the periodic lightning flashes.  So i just kept my eyes shut. But I couldn't fall back asleep.  Besides the the case of the creeps, I felt really lonely.  If there's one time when it's nice to have someone in bed with you, besides the obvious times, it's during a thunderstorm.  So at 5am, during the worst thunder storm I can remember, the bed seemed pretty big and empty.

    I slept uncomfortably on Friday night as well, but that was probably because I'd painted the room 6 hours before closing the door and going to bed.  I woke up on Saturday feeling terribly hungover.  I'd had a good amount of beer at 7B the night before, but I think I'm pretty sure it was the paint fumes.  The room looks nice though.  But I still spent most of Saturday dreading going out and drinking.  Although I kind of wanted to.  Physically, I wasn't really up for it, but I still wanted to go out.  When I left the house around 8 I was still feeling like shit, but my first stop wasn't a bar.  I met Caryn, Nate, and their friend Scott around Union Square, and we went over to Irving Plaza to catch the final show of three Built to Spill shows.  I think this was my third time seeing them, and it was by far the most enjoyable.  I love watching people who love to play the guitar.  They played for almost two hours, but didn't play more than 12 songs.  If that.  They always just drone and jam at the end of the songs, and sometimes it's a little too much.  But for the most part, it was a great show.  A lot of covers.  there was a catchy cheap trick cover, and their last song was a 15 minute Freebird.  I guess if people yell "Freebird!" enough times, pretty soon you just say what the hell and learn to play it.  And i must say, it was the best non-ironic version of freebird I've ever heard.  One of my best concert moments.  The crowd loved it, the band loved it.  Everyone was into the music, and it was great.  Built to Spill's never done an encore that I can remember, so after freebird i started out.  But then Doug Martsch came out with two of the roadies, one on keyboard and the other on bass and bass drum, and played a rather stirring cover of "Imagine."  Lots of cheering from the New York crowd.  An appropriate encore.  So all in all, well worth the money.  I wasn't all that excited about it, as I usually am before shows, but as usual afterwards I was glad I went.

    So after a taco and San Loco with Caryn and Nate, I met Matt and Jed at a bar in Chelsea called Park.  It has a sign outside that looks like a parking garage sign. Hence the name.  Anyway, it was exactly the kind of place I can't stand.  And can't afford.  Hip chelsea bar, with everyone all gussied up, and drinks costing 10 bucks. Sure, there were a ton of attractive girls, and under the right circumstances I could see myself having a good time at a place like that, but it wasn't at all where I wanted to be.  Matt was with some of his friends from work and from law school.  One of them I met long ago in DC, and had an embarrassing conversation about her smelling like leather.  Anyway, I didn't talk to her.  Just saw her and remembered that horrible night.  Then we left.  And tried to find Dylan at a bar on 13th st. and Avenue B.  We found him later outside, then took a cab home.  And that was that.

    And then today I went into the city and sat in Tompkins Square Park and drank coffee and read a book and met Caryn and Nate.  Caryn had called me last night while we were in the cab and told me one of her friends had called her and that he was all fucked up and in a limo and he was coming to pick her up.  She wanted me to go, and I almost did, but in the end I just wanted to go home.  After she told me the story today, I was kinding wishing that I'd gone, but then I was really, really glad that I hadn't.  So then they went of to to tend to Nate's garden, and I walked around the park a bit.  I bought a bit of fresh produce at the farmers market for cheap.  I've been trying to go to farmer's markets more.  Anyhow, then met up with them again and went to a guitar store where I was told a bunch of stuff I didn't know about guitars.  Then I tried to find a bathroom for a while, then we went to a rummage sale, where I looked through piles of clothes, most of which were dirty, and some of which were disturbingly moist.  Then back home.  At home, I cut up some of the vegetables I bought at the market on Wednesday and made a hearty beef stew.  Just like mom used to make.  And then I sat around feeling uncomfortably bloated.  And now I will try to write a cover letter for a job.  And then I will try to sleep.  But first, I think I'll listen to some music, play some video games, and maybe sit on the toilet for a little bit.

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