When I woke up this morning I was in a horrible mood. I didn't want to get out of bed, and I didn't so much want to stay in bed as I wanted to get further into it, which just wasn't possible. Since the thought of lolling in bed being miserable was a bit more than I could take, I got up, and drank some coffee, and headed out.

It's a good thing I did, because spending a few hours in a dimly lit room on a rainy day, listening to really great old songs while rickety old Johnny tells stories that would seem like lies coming from anyone else, was the perfect thing for me to do today. And, just like that, I feel better about almost everything. Well, not just like that, but nearly.

I saw Lang today. He seemed almost excited to see me, which is fairly remarkable, if you know him. Excited is not something I've ever really seen him be. He doesn't really...I don't know, react very strongly. To anything. Well, if something's really funny, he'll laugh, but usually he just sort of smiles. Wryly. It's partly because he barely sleeps and is perpetually exhausted, and partly because it's just not in his nature to be too effusive.

So, anyway, I was walking down Broadway and saw him standing on the curb smoking a cigarette, and then I saw him see me, and he sort of perked up and smiled at me, and when I reached him he said, "Hey," with something bordering enthusiasm. We talked for a long while, much longer than we usually do, and I could hear every word he said, which was also kind of remarkable, because Lang tends to speak somewhat quietly, and street traffic almost always overwhelms his voice. Usually I have to lean in towards him and guess at words here and there based on the context. So, that whole thing was pretty nice. It was almost as though he knew I'd been dreaming about him.

I have more to say. I've been trying to say something for the last few days, but I can't seem to figure out what it is. Maybe next time.