Tramps Like Us

Dr. Klion called to congratulate me on my 4:38:17 finish.

“Great job,” he said. “You ran an excellent race despite a significant injury. Now, take a well-deserved break. Don’t do anything for at least ten days.”

Um… ok.

Abbi and I had our post-marathon massages on Monday. Afterwards, as we scarfed a dozen oysters, two sushi rolls, and a half-dozen beers at Atlantic Grill, I prattled on about all the things running through my mind during my massage: my next marathon, my next show, my next album…

“Do you ever stop thinking!?!” she asked.

Um… not so much.

Buckeye rehearsed tonight. We have a Knitting Factory show next Saturday night (as you likely know). We met at Chris’ Hell’s Kitchen apartment and ran the set. All of us but Ryan, that is; he’s on tour. Anyway, we added a few new ones. That is, we refreshed ourselves on a few of the songs we wrote (wink wink), being that after we wrote ’em, Oasis, Matthew Sweet, et all ripped us off. Anyway, the show will be good, nay, great — so don’t miss it.

The documentary is moving along nicely, though. On Monday, we’re interviewing Tim Russert and Susan Stamberg in Washington, DC. I have a lot of research and a lot of reading to do in the meantime. Next Sunday, we’re interviewing Marc Brown. The next gets include Bill Moyers and Linda Ellerbee. It’s a lot to juggle in the background, and yet it’s the most important work.

Otherwise, I continue to marvel at modern life. Work’s insane. I’m not sure if I’m rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic or actually raising it. The world is changing around old school media. It’s staggering to watch fromwithin. And it makes for a challenging work environment, to say the least.

Meanwhile, my lease expires in March, Abbi and I are in negotiations over co-habitation, and the holidays are in-between it all.

So while my quads and knees still ache, I have to pop two Advil, and move along (just to make it through).

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