Wednesday, February 24, 2010

FTW.

Wednesday is a great day.

John had to get up early, but I got to lounge around all day and sleep until 2 in his great big bed.

When I woke up, there was a bagel that he got for me, waiting. It was delicious.

The Carly Simon pandora station is slowly being replaced in my listening habits, with Fleetwood Mac, Cake, Weezer, and Jens Lekman. When the Barry Manilow cover of "Memories" from Cats, got played more than once in one hour, serious rotations needed to be made.

After 2 weeks of reduced portions, eating slower, and walking/exercising more, I am already down just under 10 lbs. I didn't even have to give up grilled cheese sandwiches with bacon.

I am a peanut-butter and jelly fiend, lately.

Also, the new girl at work is wonderful. I have been there for just over 2 years, and new people are exciting. All my new co-workers are awesome, and we seems to have a crop of new regulars, too, which is exciting.

I really feel now, more than ever, that I am a part of my neighborhood. Wellington to Altgeld, and Southport to Halsted. I know people. I know where people live, and work, and when I am walking down the street, to or from work, or anywhere, chances are I can say "Hello" to someone I know.

Also, while I was sad to see Coconuts go all those years ago, the fact that there is a Lover's Lane there right now, amuses me to practically no end. And the building right behind it is this beautiful curved porches, big, glass, fishbowl turrets, and it sucks to know that John could have lived there, when it was still Peter's apartment, but shit, it's a beautiful building, and I have seen a lot of trash go up in this neighborhood over the past 10 years.

I hope they put something as pretty in the lot where Billy Corgan's house used to be. That was a beautiful fucking house.

Eh.

For now, I am going home, to hang out with my mom. I love her, and have felt, lately, more than probably ever in my life, really glad to have her around. I love talking to her.

Also, I love John Lennon, and this.

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