My body doesn't work the same ways as everyone elses and I mean, sometimes that is nice, and other times, now when I am tired as all hell and crashing, not so nice. I have been going out nonstop lately because there are eight million people in town whose company I really enjoy, and yet even though I don't get to bed till five or so, I will wake up by ten and have energy for hours and not feel hungover and then comes five o'clock in the pm, about right now, wherever that boost of morning energy came from dries up and I can barely even stand up.

Last night, my hangover didn't hit me until about eight o clock and so I decided I would not go out to Misshapes with everyone, laid in bed and then decided that that was stupid, that I don't have a job, that I have an unlimited MetroCard now so subway fare wouldn't be an issue, and sleep is for corpses - so I got dressed, and waited forever for the stupid L, ran into Ethan and brought him along. He commented on my flushness/sweatiness. I was so hungover and my body was totally overheating and pouring out sweat even more so than normal. I mean, I am a terribly sweaty person normally, but last night was so out of control. I spent most of my night at Misshapes outside of it, talking on my phone, cooling off on curbs, trying not to die of heat exhaustion. I don't know why I continue to go there. It is so crowded making it really hard to dance to songs which I am not always excited about, and sometimes even decidedly unexcited about. Most times, I do the same thing and end up outside talking to people who live far away, drinking beer from a bodega on some stranger's stoop. Which is nice and pleasant, but really there is no reason to go to Misshapes to do this.

My missed connection from Opaline wrote back and though he sounds nice, I have vague memories of him being kind of lame, and so I might not write him back. I might and might take him up on his suggestion that we get something to eat. I don't know, but you are shaking your head and saying that you do, that you do know, that this is how I operate - I like someone until they like me back and I have a chance with them and I lose interest. And you might be right, but I don't think in this case, you are.

I am thinking also about how amazing the human mind is. Last night on the subway home, I asked Ben about his black socks and if those were all he wore. He said yes, and I giggled because I remembered an interview with Chris Carrabba in a Rolling Stone from two years ago where he said, "All my socks are black." I don't know why this quote has stuck with me so long or why it makes me giggle so much to recall it, but I want to know. I want to know why my brain can remember a quote from a now two year old weekly periodical with a lame musician but cannot remember quotes or passages from my favorite books. Even though I have read some Whitman poems over and over way more than that interview, I can't remember lines from them, and the few lines I used to know, I now barely know - I mix up the words and don't get it verbatim. Wallace Stevens, I used to know most of "The Idea of Order at Key West," and now can't even remember the first line. "She sang gently by the seashore," is most definitely not it, I am mixing it up with that Sally sells seashells tongue twister surely, and why my mind attaches itself to some things and why those things continue to make me giggle way past the point where it might have been considered funny, I don't know.

Oh yeah, I am going to Metropolitan now because there is free food and you know, that not being a corpse thing.
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I was so off.

She sang beyond the genius of the sea