Bits and Pieces
-At my favorite pizza parlor the other night, I got stuck behind what turned out to be a U2 cover band. The thought process went something like this: Ugh, why is it so crowded in here? Wait, is that Bono? Wait, why does Bono have a Brooklyn accent?
-I may or may not have won a dance-off last weekend.
-I went to see a concert Tuesday night. Katie Melua. She reminded me of Norah Jones, if Norah Jones were British and played the guitar, and really I can't see Norah covering a song by The Cure, but wouldn't it be cool if she did?
-On a more serious note, a woman was murdered about two blocks away from my apartment Sunday night. I actually walked by the townhouse where it happened about an hour beforehand. It was domestic violence murder/attempted-suicide, so it's not like I'm afraid, it's just unsettling. I was a block and half away eatting a steak quesadilla and analyzing love and boys with a friend when a woman was stabbed to death. There isn't police tape out front, but there are some small green signs posted on the front door. I didn't know the people personally (it is after all New York City), but I had crossed paths with them, seen them shoveling their sidewalk, carrying in groceries. But I can't remember what they looked like, and somehow, that's sad.
-At my favorite pizza parlor the other night, I got stuck behind what turned out to be a U2 cover band. The thought process went something like this: Ugh, why is it so crowded in here? Wait, is that Bono? Wait, why does Bono have a Brooklyn accent?
-I may or may not have won a dance-off last weekend.
-I went to see a concert Tuesday night. Katie Melua. She reminded me of Norah Jones, if Norah Jones were British and played the guitar, and really I can't see Norah covering a song by The Cure, but wouldn't it be cool if she did?
-On a more serious note, a woman was murdered about two blocks away from my apartment Sunday night. I actually walked by the townhouse where it happened about an hour beforehand. It was domestic violence murder/attempted-suicide, so it's not like I'm afraid, it's just unsettling. I was a block and half away eatting a steak quesadilla and analyzing love and boys with a friend when a woman was stabbed to death. There isn't police tape out front, but there are some small green signs posted on the front door. I didn't know the people personally (it is after all New York City), but I had crossed paths with them, seen them shoveling their sidewalk, carrying in groceries. But I can't remember what they looked like, and somehow, that's sad.
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