Postcards from Boston

From Boston to Paris

5 #

Look out the left the captain said. The lights down there, thats where we’ll land. I saw a falling star burn up. Above the Las Vegas sands.

Rob and I have been having a difficult time at the moment. I’m not quite sure why but I think we’re both suddenly feeling quite unsettled and I’m a little homesick. I don’t think the weather has helped. It’s been schizophrenic by all accounts. Friday was baking hot then it started raining heavily. Rob is off to see David Sedaris at the Boston opera house. I was supposed to go as well but a business trip has taken me to Vegas which is where I’m headed now.

The plane is packed with people going to the same conference as me.  When you’re missing England Vegas is probably the last place you should end up. And I will be staying in the Paris hotel. No doubt a vile simulacrum of old Europe. Oops. Must leave my prejudices behind when I disembark.

We went to the MIT museum this afternoon and then sat outside a bar on Kendall Square. It was lovely and sunny. But I had that feeling of rootlessness that’s hard to shake.

I’m also learning songs for the new Chorus show. Bloody hell the repertoire is enormous. I’m looking forward to the show though.

We’re also planning to do a charity cycle ride called Harbor to the Bay. It’s in September and from Boston 125 miles to Provincetown. We keep planning to go out another ride but the weather or just general knackeredness gets in the way.

 So I’m back to Boston on Wednesday.  Since getting here I’ve been to New York, Philly and now Nevada. I like New England best  Dammit – I like old England.

The drone of flying engines is a song so wild and blue.

It scrambles time and seasons if it gets through to you.

Oh. We’re coming into land.