_bossanova_

I wrote, on paper, for a long time on Sunday in a cafe with my friend, and it was satisfying. We wandered around the East Village, had cupcakes (I know, I do that every weekend now, apparently), went to Babeland, and ended our day with a good little buzz from our favorite margaritas. I spoke to the Brazilian ex that I really should forget about, and against my better judgement I'm going to see him in Atlanta this weekend. Of course, I'll see my family, too, but I really want to see him and simultaneously enjoy what will probably be the last time I do that, and thoroughly convince myself that I'm better off without him. Eep.

So, this holiday weekend I'm taking a Chinatown bus to Atlanta from New York. Scary, but it's my only option since I got coverage for my Saturday shift at the last minute. I'm going to catch up on all the reading I've been neglecting (for cupcakes and wanderings and sex) and I even have the perfect book for such a long trip: Gravity's Rainbow.

I'm really uncomfortable with how many things are up in the air in my life right now. I expect the most important to be sorted out by the end of this month, but the waiting is killing me.

This is considered the first real bossa nova song.