First day of interning and, I have to say, it's a pretty sweet gig. I started cataloging the collection of Woody's sheet music and originals of his stuff transcribed by his wife, including a bunch of never-seen or heard songs, in the tradition of the Billy Bragg/Wilco collaboration "Mermaid Avenue" that we love so much. Some have music and lyrics, some just music. This stuff's been hidden back in the archives forever, so we're some of the only ones to have gone through it. The archivist, aka my boss, can't read music, so I get a little nerdy thrill out of being the only person alive who knows how "Beat Hitler Blues" goes.
The commute is about an hour and half on rural routes and highways that quite literally have deer running across them. Add that to the abnormally high speed limits and you begin to understand my bewilderment that anyone drives around here and lives to tell about it.
Landlord hasn't killed me for compost yet, though it may just be because he hasn't seen me. When the New Paltz library closes, I go over to the one in town which is open til 8 and had no qualms about giving me a card based solely on my assertion that I lived nearby.
Right now I'm sucking up the free wifi and coffee samples at the Border's in Westchester County, allegedly one of the richest counties in America. It shows.
I'll try to upload pictures of my room soon. At night and in the early morning it reminds me a lot of my room when I was a kid (the color scheme can only heighten this effect), so occasionally I'll wake up, think I'm ten years old again, and panic. After a few moments, I come back to reality and breathe a sigh of relief. Then I remember where I actually am and panic, this time with arm-flailing, rending of garments, the whole nine yards.
I exaggerate, but only because I don't know how else to express just how surreal this situation is. Someday I'll make it into a cartoon and/or book and no one will believe it's not fiction.
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