These are the kind of thoughts that your editor is supposed to stop you from writing. Leon Wieseltier:
I woke up the next morning still under the spell of solidarity and love. I decided to make the spell last. I gave away my tickets to a performance of some late Shostakovich quartets, because for once I was not interested in the despair. Instead I spent the day listening to the Ebonys and the Chi-Lites and the Isley Brothers. For lunch I went to Georgia Brown’s for fried green tomatoes.
I was waiting for the next sentence to be about watermelons, but he spared us that at least.