they pulled my hair at charm school.

they stole my guestbook during rolecall.

fly into nyc at n i g h t + January 24th 2005 = holding patterns,

+

dear january 24th,

if you make me take one more overcrowded train in the wrong direction, i am going to kick you in the shins. hard.

reading john cheever on an A train that smells like an electrical fire doesn't help, but listening to p.j. harvey sing "whothefuck?" on the snowy walk home does.

p.s. the weekend takes place in chicago. at a hotel with a view of the honeycomb buildings featured on wilco's yankee hotel foxtrot. we are the last plane to get out of nyc and the first back in. andrew bird's cd release party is mix of chicago hipsters and artists. he is charming as he stands in his denim wrangler jacket begrudgingly opening bottles of red wine. he & b talk music industry biz while i try to stand quietly beside them.

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ghosts!