theres a little place called heaven i'll probably never see
i can hear a mouse in my ceiling. not freaked out by it though. oddly comforted that someone else is awake. i went to see bob schnieder at the bowery ballroom tonight. one of the sweetest venues ive ever been to- i look forward to checking out some more music there. this is an excerpt from an email to an otown bob fan who couldnt be at the show: "fuckin sweet. seeing bob perpetuates my hypothesis that money is better spent on shows than drugs, because the high achieved when you connect with music is much more genuine and powerful. strange- i can remember driving around orlando not so long ago and listening to the bob and thinking i knew what it was all about. theres a certain extra level of understanding gained when youre standing in the pit, holding a beer and watching the magic of live music unfold though. you can squint and pretend theres no-one else in the room or rub elbows with people riding the same wave of enthusiasm as you. im pretty sure i gave up my first genuine smile since moving here tonight. (dont get me wrong- ive smiled since moving, but usually my eyes betray me) im not sad, i just havent found what makes me happy yet. but i transgress, the point is that he ROCKED." on another note...i got fucked up the other night and ended up on the roof of an apartment building in hells kitchen, watching the sun come up over the city and participating in conversations that had begun their humble meanderings at least ten hours prior. we stumbled upon the statement that everyone expects so much from new york when they move here. without thinking, i countered this by saying "i didnt expect anything i couldnt create for myself. the city cant disappoint me, but i can certainly disappoint the city." it makes sense doesnt it? maybe its just capricious youth, but id like to believe im my own super hero.