Monday, Jan. 03, 2005
My moment of zen, posted at 11:58 p.m.
Epiphany in Baltimore has moved to epiphanyinbaltimore.blogspot.com I leave Bally's at 10:59pm, right as they close. The unseasonably warm January air shocks me by not shocking me; it's nearly the same temperature as it was inside. My sweaty shirt sticks to my torso underneath my winter coat, but my calves feel at home in shorts in the light breeze. I make my way across Putty Hill Ave, feeling the gentle soreness in my lower back and rear end from the multiple sets of squats and deadlifts, then run underneath the flapping Trader Joe's sign, which startles me in the stillness of the night at an intersection I've never seen so desolate. I sprint down the stairs, then try to dodge the sprinkles of rain that the sky is spitting out as I reach my car door - not enough rain to clean the dusty exterior, but enough to smear my windows.I sit inside, immediately turning off the reptilian voice of Tom Lychus in favor of the CD player. I'm annoyed because it's on random, something that just doesn't sit right with me; there's a reason an artist puts songs in the order they do. However, the song I want to hear is the one that's selected, and I start blaring it. "Tangled Up in Blue"
Bob Dylan is singing his broken heart out and I'm driving home, my car itself a backup chorus of squeaky windshield whipers and lightly scraping breaks. No one is on the roads up in Towson, and I see just a handful of cars total as I make my way down Loch Raven, left on Northern Parkway, right on Old Harford, then down Harford. Every light is green, and every randomly selected song after being tangled up in blue hits the right note. There's even a little bit of irony when "Shelter from the Storm" is picked up as song #3; I want to laugh because the "storm" tonight is a light drizzle on a balmy January evening, and I need no shelter this evening. I'm reminded that Blood on the Tracks is one of those albums that begs to be listened to late at night while driving alone.
It's a good night. I've rattled off a nine-point letter to the superintendent of schools about my current unhappiness with my school's leadership, and that felt good, satisfying. I've written ten questions for my ninth grade midterm. The workout was amazing. School's going to come early tomorrow, though.