2002-10-01 - 11:39 p.m.

And this morning, I walked to work, still on my yoga high. The thing I love most about yoga is the body awareness it brings you - I walked to work today fully conscious of my body as machine. I could feel my legs transporting me forward, could feel them moving in their sockets. I was aware of my feet pressing against the pavement as I walked, pushing through my thighs. I love that, I can't understand why I don't make myself do it more often. I found a yoga studio, a new one, right across the damn street from me, that has 7am classes every weekday morning. I would LOVE yoga before work - but getting my ass out of bed at 6:30 is just not viable.

And in other news, I called a post divorce ex of mine, a complicated one, to get the number of his therapist for another friend. We talked a little bit, and then he gave me the number and I hung up and went back to work. And today, this morning, he called me again. To talk, and asked me to tell him what was going on. I told him I told him everything I knew yesterday, and then he said, yeah, well, I just wanted to call and tell you thanks a lot for keeping me up all night last night.

Please. Someone. Explain to me why these men I've been involved with go on and get married, and then come back and say this shit to me? I mean, you don't really have to explain it, I know what it is, the path not taken and all of that. But what does that accomplish? And how about me? How about the fact that all these men and I can't make it work, for whatever reason, and then they go on to have what we couldn't, and they come back, and want to talk about what could have been. How about how that makes ME feel, about me? And I don't know, but my days of me tolerating other people's indulgences are long gone.

And now, I leave you with the things I've seen today:

~ a drug bust, at Christ0pher P@rk. Three young guys in handcuffs outside the iron fence of the triangular park, three uniformed cops, and one undercover cop, a thin, small black guy in a worn tee shirt and a baseball cap. I don't know, it just seems so dishonest.

~ Four tourists from T0ronto on the train tonight, politely asking me about their stop, which was the same one as mine. After we got off the train, I was standing on the corner waiting for the light to change, and they asked me for a "real Village" restaurant recommendation. Jeez, the pressure. I did my best, but I don't think tourists want to go to the places I frequent.

~ A dog, a mangy, rusty colored fat old mutt, walking on his leash, with a water bottle hanging out of his mouth. Ha.

~ A crazy guy, outside the Jeffers0n M@rket Library, holding on the iron fence, facing the garden, yelling, "You ain't gonna get me, MOTHAFUCKA. You bastards, you'll never get me!" To the rose bushes, apparently.

And before I go, I want to tell you that the other night I had a bad night, and the boyfriend was out, and I was sad and angry and spinning. And my internet boyfriend had sent me a CD that arrived that very day, and I lit a candle and turned out the lights and layed on the couch and listened to it, and I swear to you it calmed me right down. Music to soothe the savage beast. Thank you, Ken. I owe you some email. *mwuuah*

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