Yesterday I watched Boogie Nights, which I picked up at HMV the other day. I'm officially addicted to purchasing movies. My new rationale is: if I wanted to see this movie again I'd have to pay a few bucks anyway, so why not just buy it for ten and have it at my disposal for the rest of my life? Surely DVD will still be the standard accepted format fifty years from now.

Andrea came over and we watched a bit of A Hard Day's Night before crashing. Today I'm meeting Matt downtown and we're going MIDI keyboard shopping.

Yesterday I finally fulfilled my own prophecy and tried a Fudge Brownie Temptation at Dairy Queen - aka that sundae they serve in the waffle bowl. It was damned tasty if a little pricey (five bucks). I also tried on a shirt at Old Navy for the first time in my life. It was too bright. Shopping at that store makes me nervous for some reason, as if I don't think I'm DOING it right. And I look at the posters of the male models and think that the clothes are way too prep for me. I stare at the piles of shirts and think that if I bought one I'd inevitably run into some dude with the same shirt. At least thrifting removes the likelihood of that possibility. I should really have people to buy my clothes for me. One step at a time.

Andrea and I went to see The Counterfeiters at the Bytowne yesterday afternoon, an Austrian WWII concentration camp film about Jews who were forced to recreate millions in pounds and dollars. It was an effective portrayal with gritty cinematography. There was a great scene in which a prisoner weeps when he sees that the Germans have a printing press in the camp, and one of the men says that it reminds him of their humanity.

I searched for reviews of the film online. Not to go off on a tangent here, but I will. Roger Ebert is my favorite film columnist. He's just a great writer who always brings out aspects to movies I hadn't considered. I admire the man's ability to watch a film in a way I can't, and I respect his opinion even when I don't agree with him. Ebert has been ill lately and his online review output has been supplemented by site creator Jim Emerson, who, well, sucks. Here's an example pulled from his review of The Counterfeiters, which he gave, in Ebert-terms, thumbs down: The trouble is that the storytelling and filmmaking are routine (surely faux-documentary handheld camerawork is the most overused cliche in modern movies), even when the human drama is not.

Surely it is. SURELY. When Ebert reviews a movie, he doesn't make these grand, sweeping condemnations about technique - he might state that the technique is overused, but he'll always present an argument for why a technique benefits the story being told, or why it doesn't. Emerson just leaves it at the statement, and that's why he sucks, and that's why I hope Ebert lives forever and keeps his reviews going in place of this idiot. Rant done.

I'm finished work for the week. TGIF and all that. Despite the hours I don't mind the job at all and feel as though I'm picking up new knowledge everyday about both the proofreading process and the government. Some scandalous shit goes down in politics. The Senate has lately been talking about the Bernier/Couillard issue, which is basically this: former Minister of Foreign Affairs Maxime Bernier resigned his position after it was discovered that he left confidential papers at the home of his girlfriend Julie Couillard - who used to date members of Quebec-chapter Hells Angels. I had no idea Canadian politics could be so juicy.

I found out that technically I'm scheduled to work Wednesday-Friday, not Tuesday-Thursday, which means I'm working tomorrow morning. I think I'll still go to the In/Words open mic tonight for a bit since it's been so long. Not that I have much of anything to read.

I have my own work email and phone number (if anyone is up at 2-6 AM and needs to reach me). Last night I was told to not surf for porn at work because they can tell. Good tip. It makes me wonder what else they're looking at. I should ask my friends with government jobs what they can get away with on their computers.

I'm seeing a movie with Andrea today at the Bytowne. Next week I'm going to start seriously looking for an apartment in the Centretown area.

I installed Reason onto my iMac yesterday evening and tooled around with it for a bit. I tried getting a couple of hours shut-eye before work, but I was too excited, as though Santa Claus were coming instead of 25 pages of political speak. I will say it's kind of terrific to have Late Night with Conan O'Brien as your morning show.

The job: I sit at a desk and read. Occasionally I get high and mighty about what I'm reading and demand commas, colons, semi-colons, quotation marks, apostrophes, and capitalization. The lady to whom I hand off the corrections has pink hair. My work has to be done by 5:30 AM-ish to meet the publication deadline. When I leave the office, the sun is coming out, hardly anyone is wandering the streets, and it's very pretty.

I arrived home at around 6:30 and slept until noon, proving once again that my internal clock is outfitted with a 12:00 PM alarm. I just got back from grocery shopping. Reese Puffs were on sale for $1.50 a box. This could be the greatest day of my life.

Yesterday I sent off advance requests to three U of T profs for letters of reference and have so far received two positive replies. It does the heart good.

Last night Andrea and I had dinner with Mike and Emily at Temptation Tea Shop followed by beers at Atomic Rooster on Bank Street. It started pouring rain but the weather cleared relatively by the time we headed home. I crashed at Andrea's and the two of us went to see a matinee of the new Indiana Jones movie this afternoon. I liked the flick for the most part and blame the apparent onset of George Lucas' senility for the parts I didn't like.

My copy of Reason has finished downloading, so I'll be playing around with it tonight before I take a nap in advance of my first shift with Senate Publications. First I need to pick up a package at the drug store. I hope it's not another religious text from my father (bless his heart).

I woke up on Steve's couch yesterday morning. The couch was made of that material that appears lighter or darker depending on which way the fabric is pushed, so I played with it for awhile until Steve got up. The three of us had lunch at Local Heroes and talked (mostly about music) before Steve drove me back into town.

Matt gave me a quick overview of the Reason program and his MIDI keyboard while we were hanging around in Steve's basement. I'm downloading a copy of the software right now. He was able to toss together something halfway cool in minutes that Steve played over on guitar and it's exactly the type of thing I want to mess around with. I'm really excited about it. He also showed me some video of different hardware that bands use to create sounds. I know so little about electronic music but it's interested me for a few years now and I'd really like to turn it into a hobby.

I went out to the Rideau Centre and picked up the new Green Day record (under the name Foxtrot Hot Tubs) as well as a few DVD's. When I got back I spent the evening in watching Wayne's World and Terminator 2: Judgment Day. I was able to get a little writing in before bed.

Last night's jam with Matt and Steve went to show how out of shape I am as a musician. My callouses are coming back and my right forearm is chafed from playing. We played for about 4 and a half hours before I crashed on Steve's couch. We recorded a bit, just some jam material and takes of a couple of songs including an old one called "Helen" from the Black Hill archives. I took lead vocals on it and shot my throat to pieces. The stuff doesn't sound that great off the floor but there might be some stuff in there worth fooling around with. All in all it was just nice to play again.

I watched too much TV yesterday. I'm not used to watching hours of it at a time and I get headaches around the 8th straight episode of Seinfeld. Hopefully I'll be able to keep myself busy with other things in the weeks to come, if for no other cause then for the benefit of my brain.

I went into the office yesterday for about an hour where I was given a rundown of stuff I'll have to look out for while proofreading debates. Afterwards I went over to Andrea's for lunch and we had some drinks in the "barn" with her roommates, Gwen, Christine, and Laura. We ended up at Pub Italia for dinner and crashed pretty early. I had a German beer out of the pub's extensive beer menu called Hacker-Pschorr Weisse that was pretty stellar.

The Great Glebe Garage Sale is happening today along with the Ravenswing DIY Fair. I had wanted to go to both but now I'm feeling too lazy.

I got my security clearance yesterday and stopped by the office this morning to get some pointers on how I should go about proofreading the debates. It sounds as though I'll only be doing the job for a month or so until the Senate adjourns for the summer, but at least it's something.

Last night I met up with Sebastien at the diner and we chatted for a bit until we headed over to the Bytowne Tavern for Rock n' Roll Pizza Party which, as always, seriously lacked pizza. It was an okay night. I spent most of it talking with Matt and Steve, who I'm jamming with tomorrow night out at Steve's place in Bells Corners. It will be nice to play music again.

There is a fly in the apartment and I can't bring myself to kill it. I need a new shoo technique.

The Dialogical Imagination: Tragedy in African and African American Literature: A-
The Avant-Garde: Theory and Practice: A
Race and Cinema: A-
The Pragmatics of Writing Biography: A

It's nice to know that applying for the PhD is still within my grasp if I so choose. I'd rather doors remain nice and wide open.

Since I picked up some medicine and soup and guzzled both I'm feeling a bit better than I was yesterday. I watched most of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade on TV, so I think I'm pretty well prepared to see the new flick. Something about seeing all of the ancillary ads for Indiana Jones in the form of burger and car commercials makes me nostalgic for my 80's childhood. It's good to know that consumer culture is alive and well. Kind of.

I'm heading downtown to have my security clearance pass issued and to stop by the office for some tips on how I should handle my work. Lately I've been too lazy for my own good. I need to start walking again, get the juices flowing.

I'm sick. I need to get out and pick up some groceries, stuff to flush my system with vitamins.

Andrea and I spent most of yesterday together talking and shopping and seeing Iron Man. Both of us have had our issues readjusting to the city but we're trying to work through them together.

I picked up MGMT's latest record and a copy of Once on DVD. It sounds as though I'll be starting work next Wednesday. I have to have my photo taken for a security pass at some point in the near future.

Head hurts. That's all.

Lately I've been getting the impression that the pool of friends I left in Ottawa has drifted into coupled units whose primary objective is now the practice of double dating. I don't think I've ever been on a double date. I have this idea in my head of the couples starting out talking freely in every which direction before the women settle off into some gossipy tete-a-tete while the men lean back and struggle to find conversation about prime fishing locales and recent Canadian Tire purchases. This all takes place in a pub with medium yellow lighting as tumblers and daiquiri glasses pile up modestly and suit coats curtain the backs of chairs. The evenings always, always end with the farewell, "We'll have to get together this weekend!," the last words spoken until the next midweek gathering when both couples can spare the time.

I've been back in Ottawa for a little over two weeks now and I think I've come to the conclusion that the difference (because there MUST be one) between the person I was when I left and the person I am now is fundamentally this: I am now someone more concerned with doing rather than with building expectation over what he does. The difference might sound kind of slight, and I may negate it entirely by even NOTICING it, but I think I've come back with less of an image of myself. Hopefully this will allow me to enjoy what I involve myself in that much more.

That said, the town is dredging up some old ways of thinking that I don't quite know how to deal with yet. I'm feeling as though slipping into old thought patterns might line me up for disappointment, so I'm trying to take every experience I have here as something entirely new. I'm trying to look at people as though I'm meeting them for the first time, trying to go places as though they are completely new to me. I think that's the best way to discover what I want out of life next.

I started reading The Age of Reason by Jean-Paul Sartre yesterday. In the first chapter his character Mathieu observes human beings as consciousnesses that interact with one another independent of speech and location - two consciousnesses can be alone in the night regardless of the geographical position of the minds that contain them as long as they are aware of one another. There's a lot of truth to that. The people who drive us to think and feel intensely exist as strongly as though they are in front of us, especially if we feel safe in the knowledge that they are thinking of us in return.

Waking up beside Andrea is one of the purely enjoyable experiences in my life. Dancing would be a close second. I've had the opportunity to do both in the last 12 hours and I couldn't feel happier.

Mod Night was a madhouse last night given that it was the long weekend. There was still a queue out front by the time we left around 1:30. Inside we had sweaty good times. It's comforting to know that certain things don't change - Emmett's setlist, for example.

I went to Peter's house for dinner and drinks before the club. I hadn't seen the guy for months and we caught up on what's been happening with In/Words and what he's planning on doing next. It sounds as though a lot of drama and clashes of opinion ensued on the editing team after I left. I doubt anyone worked harder than Pete trying to hold things together. Rachael was also at the party, who I hadn't seen for a little over a year. It was great catching up with old friends.

The wind is howling away outside. Good day to stay in doing not much of anything.

There was a head-on collision out on Riverside Drive across from our apartment yesterday afternoon. A van of kids in the early twenties and a middle-aged man. No one appeared seriously hurt.

I finished putting my music catalogue on Lacie - or about 99% of it. There are some box sets packed away that I really don't feel like digging out.

Folks came over to hang out for awhile last night and left pretty early. Right now I'm lying in bed watching Almost Famous. Lester Bangs is delivering the "uncool" speech. Tonight I'm heading to Peter's for awhile and then hitting Mod Night.

Yesterday was more of the same, moving records onto Lacie, not doing much of anything but spinning through websites and watching America's Funniest Videos. Around 2 AM I went nuts and wrote. All of this stuff just poured out of me - stuff I've been thinking about, stuff I invented on the spot. Words I needed to read at that moment. Ideas for stories. I'm trying to get back to this ability I once had to tell a story from beginning to end. I think participating in NaNoWriMo back in 2006 kind of screwed me up as a writer. I wrote over 30,000 words of a novel and didn't finish it. The experience drained me of observation, description, the feeling I used to have that there was so much that needs to be said that hasn't been said yet. I need a reawakening. I need those moments when I get so lonely or bored or dissatisfied that it has to come out. A story has to be told to save a life, or at the very least contribute to a person's well-being.

I think what I'm most interested in, thematically, after returning to Ottawa, is what makes a person "good," and how a person can live without thinking of themselves as good. What kind of life would that look like? What kind of decisions does this person make, and why? What points in the culture dictate goodness? How does technology affect it? What has become of morality in the person who is made aware of ten atrocities a day and does nothing because he is insulated by the experiences he has in environment? How has urbanity affected goodness? How does it change as a person gets older? Has the WAY it changes itself changed in the last ten years? How does a person become good, if it's possible? Is a good life an active life, and if so, what constitutes action? I need to come up with a character who can address these concerns in an interesting way.

The long weekend is here, aside from the people who have to work, of whom I wish I were one. I hope I get to see folks this weekend. I could probably stand to be a little more proactive in that department. I feel as though I'm still getting settled in to a certain extent, still getting used to Andrea's schedule, starting to plan out what I want and have to do over the summer. It's a bit difficult when a few things are still in limbo, but I need to start making some plans. Priority number one: sex. Having it often and well.

I moved more of my CD's onto Lacie yesterday, including most of my Nirvana material. Andrea came over and we made dinner - penne pasta with vegetarian bolognese sauce and ground round. We watched Office Space, which I hadn't seen in forever and still found hilarious. There are certain movies I've seen so many times that I don't think I'd immediately benefit from another viewing, but sometimes they surprise you.

The new Mac is great. I should be able to transfer the rest of my music collection to Lacie over the next little while. I downloaded Photoshop and as soon as the net connection in the apartment is back up to snuff I'll throw on Dreamweaver and Office. I can't wait to investigate how to use some of the onboard software.

Last night I watched a bit of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, which I've never seen in full. Andrea's coming over tonight after she gets off work, so I'm going to get this place looking a bit better.

The hangover has passed. Andrea came over last night and we watched Contact. This morning we got up and went to her place for a delicious lunch before her class.

I finally have the iMac I wanted. Last night my brother said he wouldn't have the computer shipped to my place until I sent him a cheque and it cleared in his account. It was kind of a dickhead move on his part, some bullshit ego thing that allows him to exert authority. I wouldn't have minded so much if he hadn't stated it from the beginning. He KNEW I wanted the computer as soon as possible. I kept bugging him about it. But fuck him. I paid the extra $160 and I have it today.

The monitor is huge. It's almost TOO big. I'm looking up at it like the monolith in 2001. I love new toys. We'll see what this baby can do.

It looks like I won't be starting the job until closer to the end of the month, until my security clearance takes effect and the Senate is back in session. I should take the opportunity to get started on some web work I've been intending to do.

Today has been one of the worst hangovers on record. It may nearly beat Canada Day 2007, but I think I made it out of bed earlier today. I drank WAY too much of an assortment of boxed wine, beer, and straight gin between Kat's place, the Royal Oak, and Sebastien's place. It was a pretty fun time on the whole, though. Played some Contra and Mario 3, had some good conversations. I also made a return to the Elgin Street Diner. I missed the poutine more than words can say, and it was great to see a couple of familiar faces still on staff.

I finished Slaughterhouse-Five. A fantastic work. I love Vonnegut's perspective of being able to see all time at once, and being able to live at all points of your live continually. There's a great deal of comfort in that.

I wish I could time travel to another point right now, when everything was beautiful and my head and stomach didn't hurt.

Andrea and I spent the majority of yesterday waiting. She slept in late and avoided work to go to the hospital to have a couple of things checked out, and the two of us were shuffled off to "Urgent Care" where we spent three or four hours waiting for the only doctor they had on staff to examine her. Afterwards we waited 20 minutes for the bus to South Keys, 15 minutes for our waiter at Denny's to bring us our cheque, and another 25 for the bus/train to come so that we could head home. A person can get exhausted waiting. Which is strange, because it's really just a matter of sitting there.

On our way back to my place from the hospital I ran into Brian Johnson on the bus, a prof of mine at Carleton during my undergrad. Brian was instrumental to my success at Carleton and served as the supervisor for my honours thesis. He was with his wife and their new son. I blabbed on about Vancouver for the five minutes I had with him. He mentioned that he had taken a year off and was heading back to teach a course for the summer. Definitely need to grab a beer with that guy.

I missed the South Keys Denny's. When I got home after the excursions I talked to my mother on the phone, watched The Big Lebowski, tootled around on the Internet and hit the sack.

I'd call last night's shindig a success. Fun was had by all in attendance. Ash and I hit the Party Mart beforehand and picked up decorations. Jen brought Twister. We avoided the cops, but a security guard showed up and warned us about the noise at around 1. That cleared out about half of the crowd, and the rest of us had a good time sitting around talking for awhile. Andrea and I went to bed at around 4. I'm trying to upload some of the pictures I took to Facebook, but the connection is spotty.

I'm now the proud owner of a Dirt Devil Vision Wide Glide vacuum cleaner. I picked it up at WalMart. I was the last person in line at the checkout and I had to hold the "Lane Closed" sign to ward off additional shoppers. Quite the harrowing position to be placed in.

The place is a mess.

It looks like I landed that job at the Legislative Support Office Publications Centre, proofreading debates for the Senate of Canada. I'll hear next week about the finer details. I showed up to the interview dressed to impress though everyone in the office was quite casual. The coordinator gave me a tour and I saw where I'd be working - a cubicle. My first cubicle. This will be only the second office job I've ever held, but Filament Communications was pretty open concept. This is an office through and through, located in a building on Elgin near Parliament. I'll be just like those folks moseying around in business attire talking on cell phones and wolfing down pre-afternoon-meeting lunches. Except it will be the middle of the night. As long as I know where the coffee machine is, I think I'll be okay.

Andrea and I went to WalMart for some things before going back to her place and making dinner. We went over to Erin's to hang out, and the man, the myth, the legend, Simon Haisz was in attendance. It was certainly good to find out that he hadn't REALLY fallen off the face of the earth, as most folks seem to have indicated.

In a moment of ridiculousness the cops showed up and said that we were being too loud. If we avoid the cops tonight, it will be a miracle. Ash, Ian and I are having a pretty big party of the Tiki variety, with 24 folks currently on the guest list. I need to buy a vacuum cleaner and get this place looking better. Lots to do today. Should be fun.

The big news this morning is that I have a job interview at 10 for a proofreading position with the Senate. It came about thanks to meeting Andrea's landlady, who has connections there and knew I was looking for a job. I haven't been back a week and I'm already riding the wave of Ottawa nepotism. The hours are crazy (2 AM - 6 AM three days a week) but the pay is outstanding and would offer me experience and a foot in the door. Hopefully the meeting will go well. I spoke to the employer briefly yesterday and things look positive so far.

Yesterday I watched Wonder Boys, read more of Slaughterhouse-Five and made chili. TV is pulling me back into its warm, radiating embrace, whispering sweet nothings of "Scrubs," "The Office" and "30 Rock" into my ear.

I need to go make myself look halfway presentable. First step: leaving my City of Amsterdam shoulder bag at home.

Last night Andrea engaged in a 15 minute conversation with the 97 driver on our way back to my place about being a bus driver, London vs. Ottawa, and competitive salaries. She asked him what his name was so that she could submit positive comments about him to OC Transpo and he gave his identification number. My girl.

I have a few semi-leads on the job front. A placement agency called Randstad gave me a call after I submitted my resume to a position advertised on Monster. At this point I'd like to avoid a placement agency if I can get an in somewhere else. I'll give it a few days.

On the computer front, my brother got back to me with a quote on an iMac and it sounds as though he can save me a couple hundred dollars. Hopefully he'll get back to me with a final price soon so that I know it's been shipped. I'm the kind of person who likes to get things done immediately. "Patience is a virtue" used to be a mantra of mine but the Internet and wireless communication in general has pretty much obliterated patience as a character trait.

I met Andrea at the bus station at just after 4:30 yesterday. Her landlady Gwen showed up to help her cart her stuff to the place on Elm Street. Andrea has a top floor furnished room near Chinatown for the next couple of months. After touring the place we went out for dinner at Yang Sheng (not bad, but the service was slow and they forgot my appetizer) and then downtown so that Andrea could buy a bus pass. We stopped off at her work for a bit and then went out for beers at the Cock and Lion before heading back to her room and crashing.

Just a random thought: it occurred to me while taking a whiz in the Cock and Lion washroom that it would be a completely disorienting experience to have fallen asleep in Toronto and awoken in the Cock and Lion washroom. At first I probably wouldn't have any idea where I was and would wonder how I got there. But then to leave and have it slowly dawn on me that I was in the Cock and Lion in Ottawa would be pretty messed up. That's sort of the effect that seeing the town again is having on me on the whole. It's familiar in an unfamiliar way.

My bookcase arrived and my DVD's are now perched proudly upon it. I need to find a job.

New design, obviously. All text should be visible when scrolled through. I'll tweak it when the new iMac gets here. My brother works for Apple tech support and said he would look into saving me a bit of money, so I'm waiting to hear back from him.

I've started reading Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. Tom Cruise was on Oprah talking about films he's made over the last 25 years - the interview was mostly him saying "It was great" in between bouts of verbal fellatio from fans and friends as he resisted the urge to couch jump. Last night I ate some of the pasta Ian made for his and Ash's six month anniversary and watched Raw.

I switched my room around, mostly due to the glare the windows cast once the sun peaks over the building and starts to set in the west, which incidentally comprises the background image of the blog. Today I'm waiting for Staples to deliver a bookcase, and they're supposed to arrive at the very specific time of "between 9 and 5." Regardless of what time they get here I'll be meeting Andrea at the Greyhound station at 4:30 and helping her to her new place.

Emily punched me in the balls at Mod Night last night. But it was still really good to see her.

I spent yesterday changing my addresses around with all the appropriate cards and people to whom I owe money. Ash and Ian gave me a ride downtown. I picked up a couple new pairs of shoes at the Rideau Centre - some new Cons, and a pair of dressier brown shoes from Feet First. I also grabbed a soap dish and a Brita water pitcher. Then I stood in line for a bus pass, had a silly photo taken (I never look good in bus pass photos) and took the 97 home.

Rideau Street has speakers attached intermittently to lampposts that blast music all day now. Not quite sure why that decision was made. It makes the entire street feel like a mall that's trying to keep vagrants away.

Ash, Ian and I bummed around watching Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure and The Mist before hitting up Mod Night. Mike, Emily, Jen, Eric, Steve, Matt, etc. were there. The place hasn't changed. I was content to stand around chatting, so no wicked dance moves were cut on the floor. Plenty of time for that. I left with the roomies around 1, came home and crashed.

New blog! Obviously it needs a redesign. I'll get around to that.

The move went about as well as could be expected, though I'm missing three shirts I just purchased before leaving Toronto. It's just Value Village shit, but still. When I first moved up to Ottawa seven years ago I lost a hoodie, so it's a repeating theme. Next time I'll probably show up naked. If there is a next time.

I spent the night at my folks' place. We watched WWE Smackdown, which is a hilarious show to watch with my mother, who alternates between thinking it's silly to thinking it's disgusting and dangerous. Total mark. In the morning my dad and I set forth. Usually I sleep most of the trip, but I was too excited to see the city again.

The service elevator was booked all day, but we were able to use it for one trip and brought the rest up in the passenger elevator. It probably took about an hour. Three cheers for minimalist living. I didn't bring the hutch or the dresser back with me, which saved some of the heavier lifting. After everything was upstairs, dad took me grocery shopping at Billings Bridge. Shopping with dad is like enduring a grueling job interview ("How about eggs? What are your thoughts on peanut butter and jelly? Studies have shown that the sweetness of oranges is set to rise in the next fiscal quarter. What would your advice be for potential investors looking to diversify from canned meats and rhubarb?"). Maybe not that bad. I love the old man.

So, yeah, new place. It's the highest apartment I've ever lived in. It's on the tenth floor and my room has a view west over the canal towards Centretown. Not bad. I got things settled, went to WalMart and bought a shower curtain, bath mat and hangers. Ash, Ian and I hung out drinking beers and watching TV. At around midnight I retired, started reading Slaughterhouse Five and fell asleep.

I call this blog 2AM Traffic because that's the sound I'll be falling asleep to for the greater part of the summer. Cars heading down Riverside, buses moving along the Transitway. Sounds I haven't heard in a long time. Lullabyes.