was biking down 3d. st. the other day when i heard this exchange -- "i don't even know what kind of dog that is" "it's a fox-dog!" - i looked and shouted "it's a fox! like me." then after a beat turned around and went to inspect the little fella. he was trembling and lonely-looking crouched in this corner. big-eyed, tagless, collarless, melting (heart-melting, as in, or whatever.) the good people and i weren't sure what to do, we called the morris refuge and the spca and some state agency the latter referred us to, none of whom were able to pick him up, so i cradled him up in my arms, singing to him "fox in the snow, where do you go" and carried him over to the soc. hill animal hospital, where he was scanned for a microchip. no dice.. a lady betsy offered to take him in for a night or two, and i said i'd ask around for potential adopters. yes, we know it's a pomeranian.

funny because somebody's been calling me fox recently. well, well right i'll tell you the story, because it's the most pertinent one for the last two-three weeks.

weirdo prose okay though? ok the first time i saw angela, i thought 'i want to grab you and just kiss you no more icing me down,' because it was @ the of montreal concert, in august, and that's how the song goes, really though we just so happened to be dancing and, as she says, sweating up a storm (?) right next to each other then, though the only thing we said and smiled was she told me that song was 'jennifer louise'. from aldhills arboretum. that was the same show with dermot and rob and tara and mgmt and. so forth. somewhat after the girl on the greyhound (rachel) and discussions of how does one meet strangers? (q.v. shopgirl) (would i have approached her if she wasn't a smoker?) (no but good excuse)

flashforward three months, isn't that she, at the khyber, couple rows back? [okkervil river concert. peter and/notand katherine s. - who i realize is the spit and image, save minor nose-slope, of denise o. of high-school unrequited flame fame - in attendance. charlie bissell of the wrens kills in the number two slot, covers dire straits, sinead o'connor, secaucus, with masterfully commandeered looping technique. mr. river attempts "ex-girl collection" in reprisal for the previous night.] eye, no/yes? not sure if that clinched for her but anyway she approaches me on the sidewalk, reappearing after first tentative wave, and suggests a drink. (hers is vodka sour.) so, it's 3 on 3 at rotten ralph's. buffered but agreeable. she says the east coast was calling her.

date #1: record shopping a.k.a. (i swear this was not my idea); felafel to-go from maoz; harry potter IV at the riverview; antique window-shopping in queen village; the schoolyard playground at 7th and lombard; talking about literature in washington square.

date #2: birthday meal at vietnam palace b/c vietnam was full at eight on a saturday night (fair enough who ever heard of reservations in chinatown?) where we were surreptitiously spied on by reb and dj and religion conference visitors. birthday dancing at making time (hence the art brut reference, not that i expected more than one of you to catch it. brilliant song though. also enjoyed "danger! high voltage" and "shiny disco balls" + i have to admit "hung up" wont leave my head though i'm not 100% convinced it's even catchy.) with rebecca and drunkly andrew and, allegedly, aft'n'apt.

date #3: thanksgiving! dinner at hers (way-out -ish in rosyln) with the famous jamie brown of pittsburgh. desserts by me=petit4. floral design by our hostess. (she's a flower arranger by profession.) divertissements in the form of s. king's it, you and me, and celebrity password, among others. (oh by the way her dv+video collection close to rivals my cds!?) and so forth, through dave jonasy buy-nothing-day dinner next night of peanutty greens and mashed potatoes, as prequested, and some banter with the riddle man of rittenhouse square. (no colored balls yet.)

(and i spent the rest of the weekend seeing the-other's-gold-old-friends flitting through town: msr! and campaign meredith and, funny more than enough, miss ridiculous blue-sequined tara sita. who's yr fellow lurker btw hi hi!)

there you pretty much have it. was really not sure how i felt about the whole business at first, having been having such resounding success enjoying single. esp. the eventual outcome felt so frickin inevitable from the first hello. but hey it's good, it's turning out to be quite good, and so who am i to overoutthink a good thing? my thing now is i can't figure out how to call her, you know, i for some reason don't too fancy her name being angela. eh, it'll come.

weeks we are otherwise-commited so it's just the weekend nights, which also is kind of nice, keeps it feeling newer and less intense. (though --> grow fonder.) last weekend we saw 1st friday art (feh) and the philly orchestra at kimmel, with some other fellows. (weirdo, i nodded during the higdon perc. concerto but thrilled and hand-danced the whole way through eroica.) and she'll be here before too long, whoa thursday weekend what? to finally catch the passenger before it closes (and so i keep singing: "la la la la la-la-la-la") so i should do some dinner shopping or like whut actually napsleep for once i think? and stop this but hey at least here i am. (in cafe olé, still no 'net at home but it feels less weird than work.) um, more later, sometime? what do you want to know about? (best-of list pontification sequence is commencing.) you got the sqoop, happy?

i want to see a go to shows alone type of band