Yesterday

was very sunny, and today is sunnier still. The elderly gentleman who plays the erhu on the Q platform launched, briefly and unexpectedly, into a few bars of "Happy Birthday," although there was no one standing near him whose birthday it might have been. Even in the subway it feels like spring.

Last night I saw an old friend, who I met many years ago, very literally by the side of the road as I was bicycling down the Pacific coast. It is funny to spend time with people who knew you when you were a different person, and to think of all the different people you have been in the interim, and how all those people were only stops on the way to the person you are now, and how at some point in the future it is likely you will be a different person yet again. He looks much more like a grownup now than he did when I met him. Probably so do I. We walked around the East Village. The young people of that region had garbed themselves in hotpants, and scampered through the streets shrieking, as is their seasonal custom, although it is not yet warm.

The cat is rampageous with the ecstasies of spring and at night runs about the apartment, leaping from surface to surface. I bought her wheatgrass at the farmer's market but she disdains it, preferring to chew upon the houseplants instead. The cat, it is true, has only ever been the cat.