I woke up around noon today with a pain in my chest and feeling like I hadn't gotten much in the way of sleep. I had been dreaming that I was in a car with my Dad and we were trying to pick up my parent's dog who was running along the side of the road after us but we couldn't stop because there was traffic behind us and the dog was running faster and faster to try to keep up with us. I was certain the dog would be run over at any moment. I kept screaming at my dad to pull over until he said that if he pulled over we'd get hit and die. We were going faster and faster and the dog was becoming a tiny speck behind us but I could tell was still running as fast as she could. Finally when I thought I was going to burst my dad was able to pull over and I jumped out of the car and started running down the side of the road toward the dog, who saw me coming toward her and was filled with joy but still worried because I was the member of the family she knew least so she wasn't sure what was happening. When I got to her I scooped her up in my arms and she shivering violently until we got near the car when she started licking me frantically in thanks. When I put her in the car with a sense of relief, she started licking my dad and brother frantically as well. However, my dad thought the licking was gross and told me that dogs never run into roads anyway so I really had had nothing to worry about and was overreacting. I screamed at him that I had seen a friend's dog run over by a garbage truck because he ran after a squirrel and my dad shut up.

After I woke up it took me a moment to realize that I had not been out partying the night before, but had in fact gone to bed early and completely sober. This reminded me of the reason why I had gone to bed so early: a tough and long day at work the day before. This in turn reminded me of a particular unpleasant incident that had occurred at work and before I even realized what was happening I had spent 15 minutes obsessing and arguing about the incident in my head. I shook myself out of it and got up and sat down at the computer. I skimmed over the headlines on the New York Times website regarding Libby's indictment, the lack of armor for the Iraqi army, soldier's deaths in Afghanistan, and explosions in India and then stopped to read an article about a mysterious "good" smell that had swept through Manhattan last night that had sparked both visions of Grandma's cooking in Manhattan-ites and attempts by the city's Office of Emergency Management to determine whether we were being attacked by terrorists. I regretted having missing the smell.

I threw some clothes on and went to the deli down the street to get sausage and egg on a roll and coffee. I chose this particular deli because of their delicious sausage patties (like McDonalds, but not gross) and because it is run by this really sweet Asian couple who know me. The husband does all the cooking and the wife is the kind of quiet submissive type but you can see her quietly blooming because she deals with the customers and wears a little bit of makeup. I like supporting them, even if it is only an occasional $3.50.

I took my breakfast home and sipped my coffee while reading some of Yeats' poetry and listening to Mike Ness. I read for the first time the following poem from Yeats:

Ephemera
"Your eyes that once were never weary of mine
Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,
Because our love is waning."
And then she:
"Although our love is waning, let us stand
By the lone border of the lake once more,
Together in that hour of gentleness
When the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep:
How far away the stars seem, and how far
Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!"
Pensive they paced along the faded leaves,
While slowly he whose hand held hers replied:
"Passion has often worn our wandering hearts."
The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves
Fell like faint meteors in the gloom, and once
A rabbit old and lame limped down the path;
Autumn was over him: and now they stood
On the lone border of the lake once more:
Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves
Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes,
In bosom and hair.
"Ah, do not morn," he said,
"That we are tired, for other loves await us;
Hate on and love through unrepining hours.
Before us lies eternity; our souls
Are love, and a continual farewell."

I laid Yeats aside and tried to decide whether I should go clothes shopping or do laundry. I took a shower and decided laundry wasn't really necessary and could be postponed to next weekend if I did two loads then instead of one. This left shopping, but I was still reluctant. I wanted new clothing, but I didn't want to go through the ordeal of actually shopping. I realized that I had read all of Remembrance of Things Past but had only read the first few pages of War and Peace. I debated whether I should go shopping or stay home to read War and Peace. I decided I really needed new clothing, and bribed myself with the promise that I could bring my iPod along and enjoy a nice walk to the stores in Soho.

I am living in a movie set. Some bigwig somewhere decided to film a musical featuring Beatles music in my neighborhood. Since this movie is apparently set in the 70s, they spent about a month painting and decorating all of the buildings in a few block area in psychedelic patterns and flowers. Rivington Street gets a new old-looking sign to identify it and Suffolk street is apparently now St Marks Place, if I am to believe another new old-looking sign. Nowadays, a casual walk down the street to buy a bag of sugar or six pack of beer can get sidetracked to watch it "rain" on a certain segment of the street on a perfectly clear night, or perhaps just to stare a moment at a large glowing blimp hovering over an intersection.

My walk this afternoon featured none of these exciting events, but I had a fine time admiring all the nice and different and crazy things that one sees walking down the street in NYC. I set my iPod to shuffle, and it seemed to understand implicitly what I would like at the moment, providing me with a pleasant mix of rockabilly and Hank Williams, with the occasional Guns N Roses or Rolling Stones song for contrast. The breeze was cool, but nothing that a warm winter jacket and a brisk pace couldn't handle. I was, in short, feeling quite good about myself and this city in which I have chosen to reside, until I got closer to Soho and began finding my way impeded by slow moving groups of people. I was annoyed at first but reminded myself that this is always the way of things in Soho. As I turned onto Broadway, I kept my cool and resigned myself to the snail pace of tourists and large groups without trying to twist and squeeze my way past them.

I turned into H&M, which was my destination of choice, only to find that it was completely packed for some unknown reason. I forced myself to breeze through, and was considering grabbing a few things to try on when I caught a glimpse of the appallingly long lines for the dressing rooms. I've waited in them before, and no doubt I will wait in them again, but today I just wasn't up to it, so I left.

I headed down toward my bank, since it wasn't very far and I was almost out of cash. The congestion on Canal was even worse than it was on Broadway, but once again I kept my cool and contended myself with moving at the snail's pace, gawking at buildings and fake Gucci pocketbooks right along with all the tourists that surrounded me. Kept my cool, that is, until I arrived at my bank and discovered a line out the door because two out of the three ATMs had run out of cash.

After wasting a good 10 minutes of my life in line for the ATM, I escaped the crowds and took an unfamiliar route home, enjoying the scenery and stopping at the liquor store to pick up a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that would, I thought, go quite well with some War and Peace.