Clocking out and driving to the east side to hang out with good people, wander through Coventry, converging to walk down the hill, Tangerine and the Marquess connecting quickly, me and Muk catching up since it's been a couple months and we've both had a lot going on. "It could be a little warmer," he says, nostalgic for warmer climes, but the weather is perfect for me, the perfect balance of sun and breeze, the crowds of people in the street below and despite the vast majority of whiteness, no hassle for our mixed company.
We get food and wander around, relaxed and a bit tired from long days of work, taking in the smells of grease and marinara, the guidos and bright young things, marveling at the imminent dangers of carnival rides near trees and power lines and laughing at the snarky casino runners and the sign for Holy Rosary Fried Dough, before walking up the hill past the cemetery joking about the free fill dirt and Coventry flash mob teenage zombie apocalypse, hanging out in the street watching the kids two doors down sing Lady Gaga songs on the front porch until their parents tell them to shut up, zoning out on the couch in his apartment talking, eating oranges, listening to Nine Inch Nails.
I cleaned off some of my acrylic transfers tonight and did mundane life stuff like grocery shopping and errand-running and making sense of the jumble of accumulation in the apartment.
But I did get a bike ride in, rode through the streets past condos and kids playing in the park to watch the sunset and slow down to take in at least some of the day that was mostly spent running.