Today marked my last Monday to myself (next week I go back to working Monday through Friday) and it was an oddly melancholy one. It should have been a decent enough day off, but something wasn’t quite right. After I took the lad to his bus stop I drove away under a bright blue sky. But I was listening to Low…and found myself crying quietly while remembering my dead. Oh the mood swings. In private I’m able to keep it in check less than some might guess but I’ve gotten pretty good at faking it in public. I got it under control and forced myself to move along, to take comfort in the mundane, the routine. First stop: the gym. Afterwards: the Apple Store. My precious powerbook, an all too constant companion since I obtained it last Fall, has been having some rough times too. And now we’ll be apart for a full seven days. I’m sure the powerbook will be just fine. Me on the other hand, well…
Bonus: Saturday morning I came across the trailer for American Hardcore, a documentary about the 80s hardcore scene that was so crucial to my youth. Watching it I noticed something. Or the lack of something. The women were invisible. Well, they got that right, it really was just like the good old days. Sigh.
Plus: In case you hadn’t noticed, this post was intensely personal.
And: As usual, Mimi Smartypants makes it all better.