Home in brooklyn for a couple nights. It's of course going to be 95 the days I am in town. Nothing worse that hot cities. Ya'll can have your opinions but talk to me after you walk past your neighborhood chicken processing plant on an 85 degree evening. Or worse, get on the B61 bus during the shift change at the plant. The polite thing to do is just bear it, but the smell that clings to the workers clothing is so incredible, so unbearable that the worst of us make noises and faces. The poor gangle of workers can't help it. Its a job, and an honest one. Whoa, when did I get all righteous?

While Eric toils at beekeeping and an irrigation system at the farm this week, I've been honing my tolerance for JFK and hustling.

Hanging on. Fixing peanut butter sandwiches every night for the next days uncertain meal options.
Last night in Vermont I cleaned up and went down to my hotel's lounge to have a glass of wine and make some calls. When I was told at 9pm that the kitchen had just closed (where the fuck am I?) it was half of a such a sandwich - perfectly preserved in foil on the floor of my rental car - that sustained me through an extra hour of celebrity gossip research on the internet. Kanye and Kim.

I made this arrangement to honor the extra yves piaget roses left at the studio.

Someday we're going to have to give up this apartment and I will miss it. I miss Nea tonight, apparently she sustained her first bee sting today. Such a brat. Eric tells me she's moping around up there because she misses me, and I believe him.

That's all I've got. I've stared at this post for the last half hour trying to make it funnier, but I'm spent. One day I'll get my voice back.

Trust - I've missed it.