City lullaby

Pattern Recognition by William Gibson has the best explanation of jet-lag I've seen yet: it's really soul-delay. Souls can't travel as fast as airplanes, see, and it takes a while for yours to catch up to you--though it is always connected, of course, spooling out of you like a long silver thread--and this is why you feel so inhuman as you wait for it. Well, I think I have the slowest soul ever. It has a way of not leaving the Boston area. No matter how nauseated and tired and hungry I may be when I land, and how little I like dealing with taxis, that first sight of the financial district towers is my first huge step toward feeling like myself again. Add on the fact that it's the right time of day here, and the air smells like air is supposed to, and ahhhh. Happy flexagon. Now I just need to work out and have sex. :)

( Work itself went fine in CO, by the way... )

Today, in strange, strange news, I found that my IRL friend zgirl611 is, rather obviously, here on LJ. And so (this is the strange part) are a bunch of people from a certain theater group that, while interesting, doesn't feel safe to me and never has. Ugh, I really don't think I wanted to know they were on here--I definitely don't want them to know I'm on here. Yikes. I'll have to think about this.