there were three of us this morning; I’m the only one this evening

Against all sense and evidence I walked from Copley Square to Park Street on Monday night, in teens-degree weather against prevailing wind, to get a drink with Hawver and Fraley at Silvertone. I needed to get in touch with my city again. I love Boston in the fall and winter, lit up at night during the holiday season: the crowds, the traffic, the dash from windbreak to windbreak. I love cities at night.

“You still thinking about moving to Chicago?”, Hawver asked.

“Not really,” I said. “I’ve got things coming up in spring, like the show. Writing has started coming together again. Working downtown is nice. And my efforts to get out and be social are actually paying off.”

“So you’re putting down roots?”

“As much as a man in his late twenties without a child or a mortgage can, yes.”

Taking a few days off to fly to Baltimore and visit the family. Merry Christmas if that’s your poison. Posts coming next week, but I may not be copying them to Livejournal. All must labor and rest in their due time.

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