this world is only gonna break your heart
June 12, 2008I have crammed this week to bursting, and we just passed the halfway point.
On Monday I took the train to work for the first time in a while. I enjoyed the chance to skim the morning’s news on an inky copy of the Boston Metro, and I got some reading done on the bus ride from Central to the office. I took the office’s complementary shuttle back to Cambridge for the train ride home. It says something of urban priorities that what might sound like a slur in certain parts of the country - “he takes the bus to work, man” - sounds like a bonus here.
I also auditioned for ImprovBoston’s next round of casting. Ten other guys and I filed into IB’s spacious new theater, warmed up briefly, then did ten minutes straight of freeform improv scenes. I feel reasonably confident in what I did - I forced myself off the back wall, made offers, heightened offers, responded well to others’ input. With the virtue of hindsight I can say this wasn’t enough, since the director said we’d hear back by Wednesday evening at the latest, but I’m glad I got myself out there.
I took some time off from jiu-jitsu in order to pack and move, so returning on Tuesday felt phenomenal. I had been looking for excuses to punch, throw or grab something for a week at least. Working out in a converted warehouse in a 10-pound cotton gi when it’s 90 degrees out left me swimming in sweat but otherwise healthy.
Melissa and Fraley invited me to their ice cave to watch the Celtics, so I changed into a clean shirt and drove straight there. Despite the Celtics’ sloppy play I had a hell of a time. RJ already documented some of the best exchanges; I’ll merely include one:
(during iPod commercial)
Melissa: Ugh. Coldplay.
Me: You have a problem with the non-threatening U2?
Fraley: How do you get less threatening than U2?
RJ: You could be Keaneand be a non-threatening Coldplay.
Wednesday saw me reviving two more dormant traditions - the gym and writing. I probably undid all the efforts of the former by gorging on ice cream and brownies during a sales meeting (hey, they know how to guarantee my attendance), but the latter felt productive. Then I hit up karaoke, singing “This Is How We Do It” at birthday girl Sylvia’s request. Hitting that titular declaration in full voice, right off the 4-count lead in, really cements the song’s success. Pull it off and soar; fumble it and crash.
And I’ve already got busy nights lined up tonight and tomorrow as well. The Fortress of Solitude hasn’t hindered my style (yet).
Posted by Professor Coldheart
Picture the worst train station bathroom you’ve ever entered, but with a lone Robert Doisneau print on the wall. A floor awash in urine. Two stalls, one of which won’t stay closed and the other of which o’erflows with solid fecal waste. The soap dispenser hangs on the wall above the trash can, rather than within arm’s reach of the sink, thus guaranteeing fewer people will find or use it.



