Shevek (shevek) wrote,

The State of the Shevek. Holed up in a semi-abandoned flat in Palo Alto, every meal is an exciting decision between walking to the shop or making a serendipitous exploration of the kitchen cupboards. This is living alone again. I can make a big nest of all the fluffy cushions in the house, and jump into it. Part of me wants to fill the house with people, but the part of me which is always an island would hide in the kitchen to cook. I'm not entirely sure what to do with the mail.

The borrowed Audi feels like an unaccustomed luxury, and I carefully put my coat under my bag to avoid damaging the leather. Every block is square and grey and has a Longs and a sandwich bar; without landmarks, I rely entirely on the computer to prevent me from getting lost.

Palo Alto itself is small enough to walk. My daily pilgrimage through town takes in the best of the sights: The drive-through post office, the toy store, the slightly nondescript main street of boutiques and diners, and finally the Caltrain station where I got the wrong train.

I injured myself training yesterday. I'm puzzled as to how; I've never pulled that muscle before, and now I can't turn around, or lean over. Tonight, I stayed in to work instead of training at Stanford. Tomorrow I'll swim, if I feel able, and maybe do the conditioning drills at Golden Gate. I hope to be back on form for drill at the weekend.

I feel a bit as if I'm letting life pass me by.
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