I have a bike in Boston, but it's a big heavy clunker. I want to take it to Philadelphia to trade-in/sell and buy another used bike. However it costs a whopping $80 to check a bike on a plane! Insane. This for a bike that will probably net me under $50 in trade-in value. Now I have to go sell the bike in Somerville today.

Clearly, I have reverted to the American concept of "pain in the ass." I ask myself, why is it such a trial? There is no bureaucracy to wrangle, no monkeys, no breakdown on a dusty potholed "road" miles from anywhere. Just the inconvenience of thwarted consumption: an affront to American culture.

Maybe my nerves are just short from last night's nonsensical fury. A dear friend has gone off the deep end aright aright. I roar, I weep, I shake my fist, but I can't do nothin.

Thanksgiving was, in retrospect, a sweet and satisfying long (long) tour of family, geography, gastronomy, and leisure activities. I won a game of Scrabble, and lost a game of Anagrams; I went euphoric over Ellsworth Kelly at the Hirshhorn and teary-eyed over Armagnac to see Uncle Mark so giddily pacific; I inventoried the lives of many a sister, cousin, and aunt (and male relations too) and discovered again the joy of knowing these people.

Not since I came back to America have I felt so sure of who I am and where I come from. I wasn't upset over the question, not at all, but still it was lovely to find that there is this whole coherent social world and family history of which I am centrally a part. Plus, they all got my back, you know?

Off to spit-polish the handlebars and beg for a good resale value...


expletive deleted

Across the planet, four and a half million Sinhalese voters asked Mahinda Rajapakse to stand up, wave, smile, and shake hands with the JVP for the next six years. I am reasonably livid over this. Western hemisphere, I don't expect you to understand, but this is bad news: let's just hope the economy doesn't tank any further and the war doesn't break out. Read indi and kottu for more/better, as I'm too Philadelphian to plumb the depths...

Also, sorry to those that I shouted four-letter words at this morning. Bearing bad news is rough.


merrily we roll along

...back in New York for a brief visit with mother and Jack (who is, let me say, fabulous) and having some crazy dreams about hostage situations and needing to pee and effing awesome careers. It's really fun to enjoy the east coast public transport matrix: one can get pretty much anywhere from Boston to Washington without walking very far or paying very much, and it's cool to swish about with only metrocards, farecards, tokens, a couple bills, and a lean-mean backpack.

I found a place to live, though it's cold and in West Philly, two characteristics I didn't want. It is redeemed through fascinating roommates and incredibly cheap rent ($150, no kiddin). This means I can save up for the adventures of next year. Now, if only I had a real job. Got started with the one job, hawking snake-oil at Essene Market (ie vitamins section) and reaping the free-stuff whirlwind, and briefly enjoyed the other one, at a bookstore, before the owner decided I wasn't a good fit for the place. All right then.

Oh, and last weekend I was in DC with Ross and a massive and ever-changing posse of friends. It bears proper documentation, but we attended many food events and picked up (and I mean picked up) a new friend, at one of the more amazing food events. Or rather, I picked him up. I have finally earned myself (and claimed) the long-sought title of brazen hussy.

I am so pleased to come back and find everyone in good health and happiness. Seriously: my friends look great, and have beautiful hearts, and everyone's shaken off the (spiritual) pallor of college. Except the ones who've not graduated, but the date's fast approaching!

Must get off Jack's computer so that La MaMa (a joke I can only make in New York) can use. Will remain sparse in the posting until December, when I move into the cold chummy confines of 49xx Hazel Ave.


i exist

but have been away from computers with proper access. Sorry.
however, I do have:
2 jobs
1 cold
lots of friends (yay)
and -1 places to live

Which is to say that I am living on Ross's couch, and also consuming his baked goods (living on his baked goods, as he says, over my shoulder, stoppit Ross!), and also annoyed at the silly people with the awesome house-vibe who decided they want to live with some male person instead of me. There oughtta be a law.

However, in the positive world, Scooter Libby got indicted, and sceinttsis hvae dvcioseerd taht pploee can uentdsarnd wdros whit scadlbemr ltreets pcfrlety, as lnog as the frsit and lsat lretets are in the smae palce. It gives us hope.