When Jane and I reached Union Square to switch to the 6 train, it was apparent that she couldn't stand my sullen silence anymore. It's true, I really couldn't shake the sense of despair that creeped into me during the course of the work day -- the sense that every time I try to do my job I get thwarted in some way. Welcome to my mental obsession.
Jane: "You're going to cheer the fuck up, have a tasty beverage or two, and enjoy the concert tonight, okay?"
I gave her a wan smile and agreed to be in a better mood. With my flip flops on, I could see my retro-red toe nails -- a reminder of my pedicure and earlier attempt to cheer myself up. Clearly it hadn't worked.
Jane and I were on our way to see Kasabian at the Bowery Ballroom, and after a couple beers and a rocking show (K-I-L-L), I was in a much better mood. We took a cab home and decided on a night cap at Life Cafe where we got sucked into the end of Shawshank Redemption. It was 2:30 am by the time I got to sleep.
Yawn.
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