Four days into homelessness, I’m sitting at Keena and Grigo’s dining room table in New Jersey, listening to the LA Philharmonic’s recent Arvo Part concert from iTunes and reading European tech news.
Travel isn’t what it used to be. I’m as connected, or more connected, than I was at home in San Francisco. My laptop is my life. I probably need to get out more, but today I need to figure out CSS, PHP, and more of WordPress. And learn more German.
Aimee and I left Saturday morning. I shed a half-dozen books from my suitcase (including Proust, dammit), cutting it down to a mere 84 pounds. Southwest charged me $50 to put it on the plane, and taxi drivers groan when we flag them down. Our New York stay was limited to the Kieran Hebden/Steve Reid concert at the Mercury Lounge, pastrami at Katz’s, and brunch the next morning at the unparalleled Miss Maime’s Spoonbread Too on 110th. Go there now, and eat their cornbread stuffing. It’s one of the most important things you can ever do.
Here’s a piece of the beautifully bizarre Peace Fountain in the courtyard of Harlem’s Cathedral of St. John the Divine. The dripping, decapitated head of Satan hangs below the Archangel Michael, who is fondling giraffes. And being humped by them. Humping giraffes obviously represent a cessation of all violence.
