Or so my radio station tells me. On further research, however, Dylan's actual birthday is May 24th. I guess this is more of an early celebration. Regardless. Sometimes I am convinced I was born in the wrong era. I feel I would have fit in better in a smoky coffee shop on Bleeker Street, listening to the latest Ginsberg or a young Bob Dylan - before he became huge and inaccessible. I am too restless for the now, too unsettled to be wholly comfortable in my generation. But then again, I don't think I would have done well in the 70s and 80s. Living now, although I don't get to experience the fifties and sixties, I can at least read and listen and imagine what it would have been like. And realistically, I am probably idealizing the beat and the hippie generations. Oh well.
In other news, it always shocks me when I realize my body can't handle the stresses I once put upon it. Case in point: this past weekend. I ventured, once again, to Culver, Indiana, this time for my dad's 45th reunion. I pretty much didn't eat real food while I was there, as I am partial to the various ice creams offered by the restaurants in town. And then Saturday night, I didn't sleep at all. I stayed up too late in the first place, my cot was terribly uncomfortable, and I was kept awake by the various night-sounds that occur when you share a motel room with two other people. Basically, by the time I got home Sunday afternoon, I felt pretty awful. I had a low-grade fever, and I was exhausted. I think I napped for about three or four hours on Sunday, and then I slept twelve hours Sunday night. I felt great today, which is the good news. It was mostly just another reality check reminding me that I can't afford to neglect my body, even for one day. It's lame, but my health is in a precarious state that could easily take a turn for the worse. And I don't want to take that risk. So sleep and healthy food are in order. That's about it. I go for another biopsy and hospital stay beginning Wednesday, so the countdown is on for that. Should be a good time. Have a happy Tuesday and all that whatnot. Peace.
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5 comments:
Caroline! I told you a cookie is NOT dinner.
Bee tee dubs, this is probably the creepiest line I've ever read in your blog (and that's including the biopsy descriptions):
"...and I was kept awake by the various night-sounds that occur when you share a motel room with two other people."
Like...I know what you meant but...creepy. Like if you googled "night-sounds" I wonder what would come up. Nothing good, I bet.
http://www.google.com/search?q=%22night-sounds%22+&start=0&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official
I was vastly disappointed.
i remember the summer before coming to BU me and a bunch of friends went to maine and rented 2 cabin-motel rooms and me and my friend shared one bed and were awakened every morning by the sound of our friends who were dating at the time, sloppily making out in the bed 3 feet from ours...gross
anyway, i'm glad you're feeling better after feeling crappy and good luck at l'hospital
gross guys. people snore. that's all I have to say about that. let it go.
Caroline! I also wish I could have been young and hip in the time of Dylan. Me and you could have been buds with Joni and the whole crew!!Don't forget the Warhols. I can't wait for next year. We will definately chill in some dirty cafes and do bohemian things...possibly New York in the fall! And feist??? I hope this all works out! woot woot!
This weekend I will be thinking of you. Give me a call on Sunday and I'll call you back.
kisses fraulein.
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