i've had dreams of boston all of my life

a false statement, but a fitting one, nevertheless, as i'm finally going to see vampire weekend (with the black kids) in concert tonight. back in june, they played for free in central park (with kid sister of all people!), but i was flying out to paris that morning. crestfallen in the city of lights, i learned that they were playing in paris during my time there, but as a part of a multi-day concert festival, my class schedule conflicted with that show, too. but after chasing them around the world, at last our schedules coincide! actually, not so much - i should probably be studying for my exam tomorrow, but hey, you only live once, right? right.

the lovely marina of still better and worse has tagged me to name six unimportant things that make me happy. i wrote them into a little piece about one fine day when i'm done with school and, if only for a little while, able to relax and enjoy life as it comes.

half past something and eyelids flutter open of their own volition, she hasn't yet bothered to acquire a clock and for the first time in years it doesn't matter. high ceilings and wide windows project boundless light onto pieces of yesterday strewn across hardwood, folded up in newsprint and hidden within envelopes. in a far corner, cedar contours on a pristine guitar quiver unsteadily, propped up against a stack of boxes. willing it from her bed to stay standing, she muses that perhaps today she'll finally learn a chord or two.

gathering her slim stack of mail from the floor, she tosses aside official-looking envelopes in favor of a postcard from overseas, thumbing the glossy side while rereading its short, sweet message. extracting the fashion & style section from the times, she notes that cathy's discerning eye is sharp as ever, but in need of something sentimental, she focuses on the modern love column. squinting in the sunlight, she absentmindedly plucks a pair of shades off her nightstand and sits them atop her nose. catching a glimpse of herself in the antique mirror on the wall, the haute/bas wayfarer and bed head look prompts a chuckle. the sun's momentarily gone behind a cloud and she transfers the sunglasses onto her stuffed bedfellow's snout, shielding its button eyes from what may come.

p.s.: as always, the tag is open to anyone and everyone!