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| Dear Guy, Good evening, friend. I am well today, and I hope that you are the same. Despite not having exerted myself for a couple days, I feel pretty healthy today. Giving blood on Friday seems to be finally wearing off, and I've been avoiding excesses. My body is balancing again, and it seems like I may have finally gotten all of the nasty bits out of my lungs. I had a simply wonderful meeting at NPR on Friday. I can't wait to intern this spring; there's something intensely comforting about being surrounded by people with rich voices. I'm still not sure as to where I'm going to do the rest of my senior project, but I'm working on it. In a general sense, things seem like they actually might start moving again sometime soon. I've been regressing emotionally somewhat over that past week or so, but I've felt less detached over the last few days, thanks to hearing Trouble in a movie and some well-timed phone calls. Little things like that are exactly what I need. Training starts again tomorrow, and my term paper ends. I couldn't be more anxious. Yours Truly, David. "....they could be the whole damn spectrum if we all just let them." | | |
| Dear Guy, Hello friend. I regret not writing to you sooner, but things have been exceptionally hectic as of late. You'd think somebody with a municipally-enforced curfew would have more idle time on his hands. I've been rather busy, but I haven't really left my house in a few weeks. I feel like I'm getting a little more detached from my friends as a consequence. In their place, I've been substituting midcentury literature-- twentieth century, that is. It's not fair how so many people look down on writers that they could have known personally, had they wanted to. I'm mostly reading for comfort, but also to get a better handle on my looming term paper. Add an increased supplement of David Byrne and long rows to that mix, and I'm actually feeling engaged in my life. Also, I can't sleep much. There's something special to me about sleeping thirty hours a week; it makes me feel like I can get things done. In particular, I've been feeling quite a bit fitter lately, but I think it could just be the decreased sodium concentration in my body from switching to distilled water. I make my own; I started my free month with CTS on Wednesday. I got the trial with my new watch, and if Chris and his men can train half the German NT, I think they're worth a five dollar registration fee. I get to eat barley every day now. It's great. Yours Truly, David. "See the Dwarves an' see the Giants. Which one would you choose to be? And if you can't get that together, here's the answer, here's the key: you can freeze, like a 30 century man, like a 30 century man. I'll save my breath and take it with me, 'til a hundred years, and 'sa shame you won't be there to see me shaking hands with Charles de Gaulle. Play it cool, an' saranwrap all you can, like a 30 century man. You can freeze like a 30 century man, like a 30 century man." | | |
| Dear Guy, Greetings, friend; I hope that this note finds you warm and well. Weather like this always makes me worry about what people used to do, before civilization, when it was this cold. I guess that maybe nobody lived at this extreme of a latitude back then. There is nearly nothing that bothers me so much as the cold- though I will admit that when it's cold enough to genuinely scare me into wearing more, I don't mind it so much. I think it has to do with my reluctance to wear socks. The generally cold and wet environment of rowing has toughened my skin to the cold a bit too, though not as much as I think it should have. Its benefits, I've found, have extended mostly to tolerance for windchill. It's been nice not to have to go to school the past few days. I've been able to listen to Adventures in Good Music two days in a row, and I had the good fortune this afternoon of having nothing better to do than walk through my neighborhood listening to The Avalanche. I wore my red hat and my glock so I'd feel like a member of Team Zissou in the Arctic. [just kidding about that last part, kind of.] Please do yourself a favor and get outside to cherish these moments of slow winter life and its quiet bliss. This is the first slow week of this year, and I'm kicking and screaming not to let it go. Fourth quarter starts in two weeks; I don't know if I'm ready to speed back up again. Yours Truly, David. "some say 'we're lost in space'
some say 'we're falling off the pace'
some say 'all life is insane'
some say 'but it isn't insane on paper'
some say 'we only always want to get off'
some say 'our hands are much too soft'
some say 'all life is insane'
some say 'but it isn't insane on paper'
some say 'our hair is in our eyes'
some say 'where are our little minds?'
some say 'all life is insane'
some say 'but it isn't insane on paper to have to ask'" | | |
| Dear Guy, Hello friend. I've been meaning to write to you for a few days now, but I couldn't quite make myself sit down and write. As a matter of fact, I have no less than six letters to write this weekend, and things are looking doubtful, at best. Inertia is a funny thing. I managed to row for the first time in a week on thursday night, and it felt wonderful. There is absolutely nothing like rowing 10,000m to center oneself. The very next day, of course, I woke up to two golfball-sized masses in my throat. I'm pretty sure that I'm a carrier for strep; I'll just get a bad sore throat and people start popping up around me with fevers and the like; I feel like typhoid mary. I managed to pick myself up out of bed to go to school and work Friday and this morning, but I really feel like hell today and I've been trying (rather unsuccessfully, I might add) to sleep this off. Add that to all of the salty, awful food that my parents brought me back to eat, and my body's probably not very pleased with me right now. I wanted very much to row yesterday and today, but it wasn't going to happen. In the meantime, I've been making a compilation for when I row that I'm really excited about. It's mostly Talking Heads, with some Iggy Pop, Hard Lessons, and Headphones thrown in. [As a rule, I am not a mix-CD guy, but most of my albums aren't as long as my rows, so I had to adapt.] I don't have much more on my mind right now. If anything comes up, I'll be sure to send something to you right away. Goodnight, friend. Yours Truly, David. "I love the flowers. I love the trees. I love the universe, and I still love the bees...Evolution ran aground-- and left me where myself, I found." | | |
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