Saturday, October 16
and now i'm listening to gold because it will forever recall for me a moment, shining, through the westchester foliage with msr and j. richman in the middle of my last best birthday, that lasted fourteen days. will my life ever again be so overflowing? (i think so.) three years past - seems short, for now.
last night, oh, first i can say that it was my best canvassing day (where day ≈4:30-8:15) yet, really pretty rockstar, with 70attempts 42contax 8volunteers ≥3swingsswung and really just some very affecting, effective (i think) conversations with nice folks. it was all about cricklewood circle, the epicenter of excellence (in politeness, politics, and prodigious phosphorescent pumpkins), more than making up for the accurately named shady lane where oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god they were all mostly bushies or refusers try'na tell me i'm obnoxious or that "we're eating dinner" at four-thirty man give me a break yr not. anyway, it was good, even tho it started raining at the end, when i was talking to anthony'n'antonette. i think i'm getting into the swing.
'nthenn, back to phila via norristown office, with the unstoppable duct tape mix. tara's all 'let's go to silk city' and i'm all 'dancing yah!' and so a couple minor hissyfits and more than a couple cell calls later, there we were up in nolibs. but s.c. was unappetizingly crammed, so we wandered up third to the house party of a friend of (a friend of?) mia's. we, so you know, is darlin' tara sita, mamma mia my first-day shadowee displaying a weird histrionic side, chummy justin from langhorn, peripherally matt appleseed-cast-fan, and of course me.
'round about four mia's ready to go, so justin tara and i stroll back to his car, she's telling us about her past-life regressionist seance and working the dead shift at silk city the diner, i take the wheel cuz i'm the definitely by now sober one (was this my first time driving in philly? can't remember) and it takes a while to find our way back (to pick up m.m.), duct tape disc 2 now, and drop her over to 18th'n'callowhill before we return to the scene of for some waffle and huevos. how much fun? just insanely nice times, good company, hilarity abundant, no reason for it to end except when the formaldehyde decaf hits (not me) and the wall-o-matic steals my quarter instead of letting us hear lulu. justin ended up coming here to crash for a few hours (he was gone by the time i got up); we didn't arrive until six, just in time to witness the sneaky delivery of my first nytimesmag (ta!); i half-retroactively declare this a part of the birthday festivities.
so, damn. dunno what's on for today but i'm excited to find out.
and tremble like a flower