lies, or sometimes you have to go play

I'm not going to claim it's wise to be utterly seduced by the weather on a Monday night and take your bikes out without helmets for an evening of drinking and eating and watching belly dancers (one with long gray hair danced to one of John Hammond's fine Tom Waits covers) and even fitting in a last minute surreptitious visit to the library*, to drunkenly check out books and have our copy of Box Office Poison returned by the guy behind the counter. The library was playing the "leave now" music the whole time. It was such a spur of the moment thing, we tried calling people on cell phones, managing only to reach the North Carolina contingent. We started with drinks only at the greasy spoon at the far end of Main Street, and rode back downtown for actual food, with Mr. Rowe daringly talking to Mr. Butner on the cell phone the whole time. Mr. Rowe was sporting his Stay Off the Sidewalk and Wear Your Helmet or Die T-shirt -- which was great, as we were doing every single thing it says not to. I fell off my bike in the front yard most gracelessly.

A nice evening.

Do I feel like dirt today? Well, yes, but the weather is still lovely.

* Answering Maud's question about what is the modern day equivalent of lingering in the stacks of the library: It's the library. The library is a revolution and a wonder and should be frequented frequently. I was famously afraid of libraries and so the last couple of years living close to a really fine library has truly been a life-changer. I've read many, many fine books and magazines that I probably wouldn't if I had to fork over the cash for them and there is something so wonderful about the unexpected juxtapositions of the books that are lumped in together as "new." Home to wireless and good coffee on the first floor. Libraries are so best.

But if you're not convinced the above is true, which it is, there's another answer. Wandering around your house looking at all the bookshelves and book stacks of books you haven't read yet. It's a similar effect.