Doing the bit where I just listen to a bunch of J Mascis songs late at night. Drank tequila with the Younger Sandy earlier. We discussed, among other things, the meaning of life and how to gather a sense of direction. Nothing easy about that. But fun, and illuminating. The barkeep tossed a lemon wedge on my glass, and I had to explain the merits of the lime. Long day here. Talked with a good friend about a girl he’s losing, and about what comes next. Nothing, for a time. He wanted to move to New York City, settle down, fall harder. Not so much right now. I said what I could in consolation. He’s the guy with whom I talk about old Dinosaur Jr. albums.
For my part, my trip? I’m moving back to Cleveland soon. The city beckons. Got someone I’ve got to get to know, too. Get closer.
“Me Again” hits hard, but not as hard as it did a while back. I’m me, and I quite like that.
I’m in the middle of Ramit Sethi and Mark Divine’s “Hell Week.” Day one: Maintain a 21-minute plank. Day two: Identify a long-term goal or a personal problem and, fighting through your own sense of discomfort, outline a plan of action. There’s more to it than that, but those were the objectives. Using Divine’s Navy SEAL training, the idea is to overcome self-doubt and realize that the impossible really ain’t no thang. Mind over matter. I’m not sure what the next three days will hold, but, so far, I can say that I’m feeling more engaged with the world around me. More alert. Ready. etc.
Sandy 