Crash

· bodega

Yesterday afternoon I realized I had zero energy. The weeklong trip to New York, with its consequent jetlag, late nights, early mornings, family dynamics, and memories of last year’s attack, had managed to drain me to empty husk.
A little after noon I realized I was passing out so I got into bed and slept until 3:30 when the phone rang. After that call I slept almost another hour. Still felt groggy and dour in the evening and went to see Road to Perdition at the Parkway Bowl. The movie, gory as it was, provided some fine escapism and beautiful old-Master-looking cinematography to appreciate, but when the dream wore off I was just as down as before.
This morning after eight more hours of sleep, I am beginning to feel myself again. A little stressed about the numerous things competing for my time and attention, but no more than usual.
I am reminded that my friend J, a magazine editor, told me that one of his employees, a young man (in his 20s) went to see Perdition a month or so ago and reported back that “the salad-dressing guy was really good.”

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