I appear to have quit sleeping again. This leaves me with a lot of time for standing at my windows at 3 am, looking at the city. Somehow in the last few hours before dawn the colors of this town are super-saturated, Dick Tracy colors. I like to think of all the meetings that could happen, all the elevated sentences that could be uttered, in a world that was those colors.
My neighborhood looks charming during witching hours, the new park less muddy.
I have decided that perseverance ought to be rewarded, and as such shall be making plans for a second date. This sounds completely ridiculous and I feel a little foolish, but the fact is that at my best I'm awful at returning phone calls and emails, and have been even more so the last couple of months. The idea of creating a whole new history with someone has sounded exhausting. I've heard all my stories already, and I'm sick of them.
It looks as though tomorrow night is going to be a lecture at Town Hall rather than trivia or meetups. Apres, Caroline and I will still be downtown, and I vote for drinks. Drinks, anyone? Field trip to the White Horse, maybe? I haven't been back yet this year.
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