the way to live, man.

There was a time when I lived out of a Honda Civic hatchback - with two roommates. To be fair, we were on a bit of a roadtrip departing from our current homes in the northwest. The three of us decided it was time for a change of scenery on a Sunday and departed for the trip on Wednesday. We mailed some small things to destinations we knew in time we'd reach, aka our parents' places, and permitted ourselves each a small backpack, a very small backpack. It was liberating. It was total bliss. 

Skip ahead a few years and I found myself on another sort of 5 week adventure period. I won't exactly have a permanent address, but you know I'll be somewhere between Brooklyn and Jamaica. I'm getting rid of as many material possessions as possible and holding on to old photographs of people I've never met. It's completely brilliant. I mean, why do we have such odd connections to inanimate objects like chairs and plates? I've often felt that I should rid myself of all of my material possessions, but at last I have an excuse to do it! Needless to say, the flannel shirt you've seen me in everyday for the last few weeks will be my staple shirt for the next 5 weeks and when I come back from Jamaica I'll probably where a bikini top underneath it for no reason at all, except for I think it's a good look.

In other news - I just noticed that they've been roofing the building across from me all day. I never close my giant 3 x 6' windows. And I actually showered today. Sorry to everyone who thinks visually.

The World's Best Rest Stop

As you may know, I was on a bit of an adventure these past few days. I traveled from New York to Philadelphia to Virginia Beach to Rochester (rather, Ontario - a tiny little town) back to New York. Well, somewhere between Philadelphia and Virginia Beach, we found ourselves in Delaware. It was about 10 am. We pulled into a large, empty parking lot. 'Dover Downs', the sign read. I was simply along for the ride, and I like to think of myself as relatively compliant, so I thought, a stop at a casino can't hurt. Of course, I don't gamble, but I do like my super coffees. Nothing like a couple shots of whiskey in your coffee to get you going in the morning. What time is it? No sign of the driver? Pour us another. We start gabbing with the bartender. Life is good. We love the bartender. We love super coffee. We love a fine bloody mary. We locate a carmate. A mother. We love her. She loves a fine bloody mary. We are drunk. We are drunk and it's only 11 am and we're in Dover Delaware in shiny leggings and old flannel shirts. We were a sight to behold, though there was no one there to see, except Bernard, the bartender. We find our driver. The only sober person about to hop in family car. We all have to pee. We exit, after downing a final bloody mary. We get in the car. I speak up, "uh, I have to pee again." We make a trip into McDonald's. We eat french fries, some beef soup, and a quarter of a root beer. We leave. We all pass out. The driver talks about us under his breath as we all sleep - for the nest 4 hours. Happy as kittens.