This past weekend I finally got out of the house and got to have some fun. I've been working.. a lot.

Thursday I went to a baseball game. I went to a baseball game not long after (with a little advice and help from one Tony White) I cracked the lid on a database that I've been working on for far to many months. Conceptually anyway. I wrote it all down and rushed off to meet brian in times square to go hang out at Yankees stadium, eat peanuts and drink beer. I met Brian's Lauren, and traded jokes with this loud spanish man across the isle from me. A good time was had by all.

On the way home I got to talking to a group of friends from brooklyn, near church ave, and we were eventually joined by a man by the name of Elroy. (Jetson as he was called back in school) who talked mostly with me about life, school, his little brother who just graduated from college, and how he's 38, has a kid, has a good job, and how he likes where his life is. I need to go back to school he says. When I'm almost turning 40 and I talk to a group of kids on the subway coming home from a baseball game I'll be saying the same thing.

Who knows?

I'll be going back to school, never fear. I thought about that after I had transfered trains and was riding alone. Well not alone, there was a whole train of people, most of them coming home from the game. I kept catching glances of people's eyes. All these different people with different expressions, talking, sitting, thinking, standing, all with such deep expressive eyes.

There was a girl who looked exactly like a girl named Lily I know, she's the little sister of a friend of mine. She was just staring down the center of the car, standing, keeping posture, with a look on her face like she just had to do something really difficult, something she could handle but something big none the less. Just tired and longing, yet strong.

There was another girl, older, my age this time. Red hair, round face, skinny, irish maybe. I felt like I knew her in kindergarden or something. She looked like someone I should know, but I've forgotten. Wide eyes, tired yet still awake, looking around the subway, at me, talking with her friend who looks like someone else I know, but isn't. Inquisitive eyes.

Glancing around you'd catch the glimmer of another pair of eyes, each deep with meaning and feeling. It was really odd.

I walked home didn't even care that the Yankees lost. It was a pretty night.