A penny for your padlock

I sat down in the library today. I've done all the reading notes, read the books, a few articles, and vaguely know what this next paper will be about, and how it will fit in the book. But, in order to write it, I have to get over the confusion state. This moment just before the pieces fit together, when you look at all the pieces and wonder if they are even part of the same puzzle. In those moments, I feel like I'm Hansel (or Gretel), in the forrest, but out of bread... I know I'll think of the rocks soon, and I'll make it out of the forrest. But first, I have to play around with random pieces.

Then, I left. Ran into Chelsea Clinton getting into her service car. Who needs a limo to leave the library? But it was an hybrid, so she gets points for that (see how magnanimous I am today?)

After coffee (and brownie) with a friend who is also lost in is 9/11 forrest (aka the doctoral student before he starts writing the thing), I walked home, watching the couples making their ways to restaurants, guys buying flowers at the convenience stores, girls walking around with flowers. I don't think I've actually ever had a Valentine's day, though I don't exactly see the point of it. In a gallery in Chelsea (the neighborhood, not the president's daughter), there was this oldish guy, sitting at a table with a notebook, a pen, and a few padlocks. I'm always shy about portraits, but I managed to snuck one. Or he just didn't care.

Then the Empire State Building was pink and red, and the post office was ever more majestic in the dark.