i’m back in boston–in cambridge, to be precise–and i couldn’t be happier. i love love love this town. i have to keep reminding myself that it morphs into a completely different place in the winter, that i don’t get along with that place, and that i left that place a year ago.* but it’s so hard to think of that because i love this place.
i love that the first thing i smelled when i walked through the airport (at 5 am; took a red-eye) was dunkin donuts + coffee. i love that the houses here make me think i went back in time. i love that its 92 degrees here in the summer, and the sun blinks back from the charles river with all kinds of fake innocence. i love that there are a million ice cream shops. and that there is no sales tax on clothes. i love that i feel inspired just being here. that i know where things here are. that i am simultaneously never and always lost.
i had a delicious and charming dinner with two friends tonight, and we discussed my (our?) lack of motivation and ability (see “weaksauce”), and i wonder if some of that has to do with geography. i feel more inspired here. just being here. although that could be because i am on vacation. but i do feel like i had more creative energy when i lived her–and i think i did manage to produce more work here–i wrote a few short stories, one long story, painted a ridiculous amount, finished the rubik’s cube (had to go to austin for that), and had all kinds of adventures.
im also running on less than 5 hours of sleep in the past 30 hours, so you know. this magic could really be delirium. or the nefarious work of a gorgeous summer. if i were visiting in january, would i feel the same?
*remind me to blog about this more fully. i didn’t leave only because the winter was tough.