Hmmm... a little less swelling, and a lot more visible brusing than last night. I have a morbid desire to photograph the whole affair. Catch biology in the bits. It's been a slow day in front of the television. I'm finding Irish Whisky to be about as effective as an icepack at reducing the swelling in my lip, which is to say not very. I need to jot down some non-injury notes from last night, but my will is failing.
My soul is consumed with discovering the thing -- the purpose, the cause, the means of bringing the essense of me into contact with the world that surrounds -- that will make me proud to be myslef, and with wondering in languishing uncertainty when Love will come by and lift my spirit into fields of unconscious glee as I know it one day will. I just hope I don't have to wait until I'm in my late '20s or even my '30s to get there. Partly impatience, but also a desire to direct my energies to more substantial things than this sophomoric search for mates. I know part of the key to this equation is my attitude, but part of it is also uncovering the right someone. More on that another time.
Right now on blessed and free IFC is way of the gun, a neat little existential experiment in violence with lots of surprising characters but a dissappointingly ambivalent ending. Choice line: in the dicy beginnings of the climactic gun battle, Benicio del Toro asks Ryan Phillipe "what do you think?" His response, "I think a plan is a list of things that don't happen." Calls to mind the good moments of Hal Hartley. Also worth seeing are the two Young Consultant Killers; kind of like dot-com kids of the murder-for-hire biz. Really a brilliant formal exercise, just lacking total follow through on substence. Nice scoring also.
He ain't pretty no more
That's right, I'm a fucking mess. This is what you get when your city can't afford to fix potholes. Riding home on Astor Place last night after going to the Free Eddie show, a mighty crevase in the street escaped my attention, swallowed my front wheel and agganged quite defttly to acquaint my face with the loving caress of pavement. It took a minute for what happened to hit home. I was on the sidewalk in front of k-mart collecting myself when I realized I was bleeding. Some kind soul offered me some napkins and they came away red. My first bloody nose! I didn't quite get the full impact until I got to a mirror. It's ugly, but after three accident-free years of NYC biking, I could have done a lot worse.
It's ironic that this happens now, what with the little trip I've got on the left and the poll that's running on the right.
So don't worry, I think I'm fine. One of my front teeth is very sore and a little loose, but not as loose as it was, which I take to be a good sign. Assuming my lip un-swells in due course and the tooth returns to normal, everything else is just urban rug burn. Happens to be on my face, but hey: I needed to take some time off from all this reckless makeout anyway.
So I'm taking it easy tonight. A little reading. A little porrage. Maybe some ice cream later on. I'll peruse the web some more. I've been getting in on some of the technorati stuff -- kind of an ofshoot of my praxis idea -- and I'm strangely attracted to this blog by some chick in my 'hood... full of hikou-esque words, good photos and neat uses of technology. Planned architectural site updates have been shelved for today.