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And some urban trees were out there and consequently it smelled like heaven
Today was gorgeous. The weather still thinks it's July, which is stickier than I would like and faintly disturbing for the second day of spring, but I spent most of it at the Museum of Science with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel, admiring geckos and discovering what had become of the exhibits we remembered from our childhood, and then we crossed the highway (and under the last elevated piece of the Green Line, which is vaulted over the water like a Venetian ruin) to the North Point Park, which is full of cattails and daffodils, and split a freeze-dried ice cream sandwich while watching the afternoon glitter off the Charles and trains come and go from North Station. The commuter rail has an ear-filling hum, but the Amtrak Downeaster just rattles. There were cormorants roosting on the old pilings, some hopeful geese swimming around beneath. There will be a footbridge over the tracks, twisting now behind its chain-link like a helical echo of the Zakim Bridge. For dinner, we walked up into the North End (he showed me the Spite House and the site of the 1919 Molasses Flood) and I hope I am remembering correctly that the restaurant we eventually settled on was called Pellino's, because it had the sort of tagliatelle bolognese for which one would consider selling at least a moderately priced relative. I do not usually eat entire plates of pasta. We got dessert from Modern Pastry. We wandered in the general direction of one subway and then another; I was introduced to the ghost of the Howard Athenæum—known the world over as The Old Howard, Boston's home of burlesque. We were both quite tired by the time a train was actually achieved.
And then I came home and realized I have not gone a day since the beginning of this month without some form of serious social interaction—oh, God, I just double-checked the calendar, it's every day since the seventh of February—and I cannot keep this up and not blow a gasket. Evidently I've been making up a deficit: it's just topped out. No wonder I've felt slightly weird the last couple of nights. Tomorrow night I am going to see a movie, and then I am going to hibernate. And that will also make me happy.
derspatchel, admiring geckos and discovering what had become of the exhibits we remembered from our childhood, and then we crossed the highway (and under the last elevated piece of the Green Line, which is vaulted over the water like a Venetian ruin) to the North Point Park, which is full of cattails and daffodils, and split a freeze-dried ice cream sandwich while watching the afternoon glitter off the Charles and trains come and go from North Station. The commuter rail has an ear-filling hum, but the Amtrak Downeaster just rattles. There were cormorants roosting on the old pilings, some hopeful geese swimming around beneath. There will be a footbridge over the tracks, twisting now behind its chain-link like a helical echo of the Zakim Bridge. For dinner, we walked up into the North End (he showed me the Spite House and the site of the 1919 Molasses Flood) and I hope I am remembering correctly that the restaurant we eventually settled on was called Pellino's, because it had the sort of tagliatelle bolognese for which one would consider selling at least a moderately priced relative. I do not usually eat entire plates of pasta. We got dessert from Modern Pastry. We wandered in the general direction of one subway and then another; I was introduced to the ghost of the Howard Athenæum—known the world over as The Old Howard, Boston's home of burlesque. We were both quite tired by the time a train was actually achieved.And then I came home and realized I have not gone a day since the beginning of this month without some form of serious social interaction—oh, God, I just double-checked the calendar, it's every day since the seventh of February—and I cannot keep this up and not blow a gasket. Evidently I've been making up a deficit: it's just topped out. No wonder I've felt slightly weird the last couple of nights. Tomorrow night I am going to see a movie, and then I am going to hibernate. And that will also make me happy.
no subject
I am definitely an introvert; I do not recharge from people. One of the things I warn new acquaintances is that I will ignore them if I'm working on a project, writing seriously, or if I've just overdosed on human interaction. I just seem to have been a lonely introvert for some time. I figure I'll resume my normal patterns once I've gotten some time off; I'll just insist on keeping some of the exceptions I made during these last few months.
Lonely around other people can be a difficult concept to explain, yes.
Instead I'm visiting a friend in Pennsylvania, staying in Newtown (really small town with a lot of plaques) and mostly avoiding the Chabad (although the Chabad is much more civilized outside of Brooklyn - I lived in Crown Heights for a month and a half and only later did I realize that people usually don't call themselves misnagdim.) so that's a lot of walking around in the country
That sounds like a very good way to get time to yourself. Enjoy.