Psst.

It's been so long, that I don't really know what to say.

I'm on a plane back from New York, to San Diego.

I found used copies of Joni Mitchell's Blue and Cat Steven's Greatest Hits at a record store in St. Marks. The owner told me he wasn't chastising me for not putting the booklet back in the CD case properly. He told me he wasn't chastising me at all. He also told me he wasn't telling me what I was doing wrong.

I also bought a straw fedora.

I feel funny writing in this blog after such a long pause. I feel like I'm talking to much about Me. Me. Me. I guess that's the point?

I'm getting another tattoo(s) as soon as I get back. And I'm thinking about re-piercing my eyebrow. So what?

My mom and I shared a cab with a French couple on their way back to Paris after a week in New York. I felt inferior.

I had a dirty gin martini with every dinner. This was supposed to make me feel better about not having any Spirits after dinner. I didn't feel better.

I just got a new penpal. He's in Kenya. (Sorry Justin)

My mom kept asking me when and why I stopped wearing bras. I never answered her questions. I just tried to give her knowing smiles. Then she kept calling me Liberal.

I went to a bar by myself on 51st and 8th, ordered a beer, and wrote in my journal. The Irish bartender asked me if I was writing a book. I said absolutely.

Grown men kept asking my mom if we were sisters. I kept wondering when the young men would ask me if I was single.

People really know what they're doing with clothes in New York.

3.5 more hours on this plane. I really wish I had brought a book.