Is Granny spry?

Jesus, it's mid-February and supposed to hit 59 degrees today. Why, God, why am I (why are we) cooped up in this office when we should be out communing with the warm air and walking streets in the abject joy of freedom? Maybe I'll come down with bubonic plague to get out of working the rest of the afternoon--you know, the 24-hour kind. Actually, I've no reason to kvetch (this is a Yiddish word which New Yorkers frequently use for "complain"); I'm planning to go to the gym after work, but I wouldn't mind blowing off the afternoon and hitting the gym early. If I had my druthers, I'd prefer getting back to Staten Island and going for a drive or maybe out for a nice, late afternoon cafe jaunt. My place of preference? Cafe Le Figaro on Bleecker Street. Has always been my personal touchstone of escape and space for clearing my head of all mental cobwebs. It's also been the proverbial home-away-from-home for both Two Minutes Hate and The Punch Line since 1984. Whiled away many hours; writing songs, planning strategies, drinking cappuccino, smoking cigarettes (in another lifetime) and pretending we were The Style Council. How wonderfully, warmingly adolescent of us. But I still prefer that particular cafe as it's the only one not yet scathed by the now-constantly-changing landscape of the Village. It's one of the last vestiges of my youth that I'll cling to until it changes decor or closes or I move and never venture into the Village again. Either way, it's where I'd like to be at this particular moment.

Feeling pretty good physically. I noticed this morning that yet again, I've been able to wake up with no sluggishness and a fast burst of decent energy. Been getting solid, restful sleep over the last week or so (this past Friday into Saturday notwithstanding) and with getting more bang for my buck at the gym and my diet being balanced, I feel better than I have in a very long time. I think this physical well-being plays hand-in-hand with my seemingly positive frame of mind and this clarity that I've regained in recent weeks. Now all these good vibes, I will hope, should translate itself into this coming Saturday--the next Punch Line recording session. Cleaning up/tidying up vocals and some minor percussion on two of the already-completed tracks and then we start the basic tracks for the last three "new" songs. The joke, of course, is that it's our monthly session--just as if we were having our period. And God knows, it's been cramping my style. I suppose on the good side of it, it hasn't made me bloated or weepy.

B. suggested that while I'm on this kind of a mind-to-fingertips tear, I should seriously think about, if not actually start, writing a book. A thought; an aspiration, certainly, but I do often wonder if I have the discipline to do so.

Probably.