I'm just a cock-eyed pessimist

I couldn't help but want to beat the mad rush out of the 02 last night. Still, we got home at a quarter 'til 12. I slept really well once I got in bed (and seriously it was quite soon after our
arrival) but not enough. And, well, we're running a bit late today. I'm expecting I'll still be tired tonight, and I've (foolishly) booked us for another event - Merce Cunningham at the Barbican. Barbican = far from my house. And then my sister shows up the next day. Damn.

I am still coughing and phlegming, and I am right tired of it. Can this cold not just be 100% over?

So, I'm reading the news back home ...

and I find this story about a bankrobber who hit in the small town in Monroe ...

and escaped by floating down the river on an inner tube.

The kicker to it all is how he used CraigsList to facilitate his getaway ...

And now, back to work!

PS: Did I blink and miss September?

We have finally found a place for Vietnamese. "Pho," 86 St John St, near Smithfield Market. Everything , including broth, made fresh daily. So happy!

Special notice for those who complained about me whining about being miserable in August:

Life is generally quite fine right now. I have nothing to complain about other than a lingering sniffle, but I recognize I'm feeling good and things are going well. Yay!

Merce Cunningham's show tonight was awesome other than the irritating teenagers who apparently think modern dance is good for a giggle (they completely freaked out during the John Cage thing, but I do think that "squeaky balloon" may just be an unfortunate musical instrument choice on the best of nights). "Biped" was fantastic, a perfect combination of dance, costume, lighting, and live music (written and performed by Gavin Bryars). Who'd think you could actually do video projections that enhanced dance instead of distracting from it? In this case, it looked like the dimensions of the stage were changing, and sometimes like the floor was floating toward and then away from the dancers. It was genius, pure perfect Merce. He came out at the end in a wheelchair for the curtain call. I hope like hell I have the opportunity to see just a few more new works by him.

Also: shadowdaddy lit the MFA thesis show for one of the dancers, and I've discovered that port is my interval drink - much nicer than ice cream and both the same price at this venue. But since there were two intervals, and white chocolate raspberry ice cream, I actually had both.

Tomorrow: my sister arrives! Now: sleep. The cold is making me look a bit transparent, and the circles under my eyes, while lending themselves to a Romantic/consumptive look, could really do with going away just immediately, and taking my wrinkles with them.