Yesterday I drove up to Connecticut after work. Jun is on loan to a lab over here and I'd been meaning to visit for months. Down a dark road in Woodbury nestled next to a lightly misting waterfall he's got a small wood-paneled studio he's renting. We ate barbecue and worked our way through a bottle of Wild Turkey 101 talking until about 4 am.
On the 7-hour drive up I listened to podcasts and an album: "Sylvia Plath Reading Her Poetry." The lyric density of Plath is something.
Today we got up around 10 and ate breakfast at diner a mile down the road. Old-timey spot filled with white people. Then we headed down to Storm King and walked the grounds. Dodged geese poop on shortcuts through the meadows to get close to blue and orange steel pylons making inane shapes. It was beautiful out, 40s maybe, but didn't feel it.
Ate Country Store donuts watching a mini horse lick mud. Later, Tikka for dinner.
Now we're watching Cash Cab and I'm reading the first half of Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience on the breaks.