Follow the Lighted Promenade

Am I odd for getting choked up seeing Roger Waters play with Pink Floyd again? I don't think so. Their separation was so grievous, so acrimonious, yet they looked so happy. When Gilmour and Waters harmonized on "Wish You Were Here," I teared up, despite the fact that Chris, Amy, Adam and Herbie were there with me. I've watched the tape several times, and each time I've felt this surge of emotion well within me. So much has happened and I'm far too lazy to post all of it...I'll spare you, dear reader, the details of my drinking tea and reading for hours. I've been writing and riding and living the life of a poor millionaire. I've been with friends, but, in retrospect, the greatest moments of the summer thus far have been alone. I'm reading an enthralling book called Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell, and I love drinking tea, watching thunderstorms, and getting lost in his parallel narratives. I am a dork. I helped Sophia move into her awesom