:: mike errico diary ::

:: Thursday, June 1, 2006 ::

I like this schedule. I sleep til whenever, get up, go to the gym with the NY Times, a bottle of water and a small coffee (little milk, one sugar). On the way back, I hit the deli and get another bottle of water, and two scrambled with ham on a wrap. No cheese. I sit down with Eileen, a 90-year-old woman with a black wig that's always on crooked, and eyebrows that are drawn on with a thick brown pencil of some sort. She reads the Post with a magnifying glass, and has some milk and toast. We talk about the Yankees (she's a fan) and the record. She likes how it's coming together. "I hope you got yourself a hit song on there, Mike. Sounds like it's goin' good." She thinks that baseball players now are more attractive than they used to be. "Time was, these guys were real...roustabouts. Not so, anymore. Good lookin' boys."

I finish breakfast, shower, warm up in time for a long leisurely walk to the studio to collect my head and decide the song we're going to hit. I've been alternating fast-slow, rock-ballad, just for the sake of pacing. Yesterday was a Pink Floyd fest, so today we're going to crank it up. I'm psyched.

All right, then. Time to do all of that.


post a routine.
:: mike 7:57 AM [+] ::