Ah, but the City of Pain: how strange its streets are:
the false silence of sound drowning sound,
and there--proud, brazen, effluence from the mold of emptiness--
the gilded hubbub, the bursting monument.
--from Rilke's 10th Duino Elegy
It's become a comforting ritual to read the "A Nation Challenged" section in the Times every day. The last page--the profiles of the deceased and missing--is the heart of it. I'm on a mission to read every single one. It's to the point now where just seeing Times New Roman typeface starts my tears a-flowin', but that's OK cuz I don't want to become blase about all the loss.
Went to see my friend's band play at Arlene Grocery last night. I've watched her struggle with her band for years now, and I'm really happy to see that this latest version of the band works. There is a cohesion here now that was missing before--the guys in the band all play really well (independently and together) and exude a sense of skinny, faded-jeans and pocket-tee exuberance.
I need to get a band together again....Sigh.
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