Outside my window at 11pm I inhale the humidity in the air, and it has the sweet musk of spring.
Miles Davis's muted horn brings solace that I haven't felt in months.
The bass softly kneads the tension out of my back.
The city is a cacophony of rain, cars and lights outside my window.
But in the hands of Miles this rich spring night is not but solitude and peace.
I dislike fancy-schmancy clothing. But I look goooooood in it. I'm really at something of a loss in reconciling my stance on business attire. In a dry, philosophical world my take on suits is that they constraint the wearer and impress the wrong kind of people. But the 'wrong kind of people' are often gatekeepers in the professional world. And yet I like dressing up for a night out, it's fun to play the role of some well-to-do figure. Somewhere in the background noise of this cognitive dissonance the kid that loves to run around shirtless and in sandals is twitching.