I like how Nick writes about transitions, so instead of articulating the same sentiment in my own words, I will quote him:
> Moving this week. Things seem to be shifting a bit in this city, this burning old town. Sort of like how time slows when the ball is soaring towards your head.
I find it mildy hilarious that he and I no longer communicate via email or phone, but rather via static, subjective blog posts for other people to read. I like this global age in a lot of ways, I really do, but on many levels, it makes me sad. Is having a pseudo-connection with someone (i.e., via web communication), equal to or better than person-to-person communication? In terms of convenience, certainly. But I’m reaching a point now where I’d almost rather talk, write real letters or see the person rather than perpetuate a less sincere, less personal cyber relationship. You know what I mean?
Much how I feel about George, but that’s another story and I don’t feel like telling stories tonight.
In more mundane news, why is finding an affordable apartment proving to be the most difficult task I’ve ever undertaken? Seriously. The flats I’ve seen have been nice, but their inhabitants have been a new breed of weird. All of them. I was finally psyched to see a cheeeeeap, awesome-sounding setup near Kendall today, but I called and called and never got in touch with the chic who was supposed to meet me. She never called me, and she never emailed. Geeze!
However, it was a pretty glorious day, even with the overcast sky. It’s not like Manchester’s overcast; it’s lighter here, the humidity doesn’t permeate the skin. The clouds are thin here, and they glow a shy yellow. In Manch, the sky is rolling, always, with low blue-grey clouds that constantly threaten not to rain on you, but to beat you with their water. Boston is a gentler city, and I’m thankful for it.
Today I met up with my old conspirator Marcus Rhinelander to discuss, oh, the usual: his upcoming trip to Asia; business prospects and grant proposals; anthropology; interview techniques in fieldwork and videography; our varying career prospects; and possible collaborative business ventures we will or might or at some point contemplate beginning. It was nice seeing him. We met up first last night at MassArt’s Iron Pour Party (don’t ask), then this morning for the Red Sox parade, which he was photographing for pleasure, as opposed to business.
I feel like there’s gotta be some great reason why I know all these talented, creative, cultured, intelligent people. Why is it? What am I supposed to do with them? What are we supposed to do together? Throw your ideas my way, please. I’ll be here — in Ryan’s crowded room while he sings to prospective producers in other cities. Sheesh.
