i'm all hot and sweaty after zipping up my bag. what does this mean, dear reader? does it mean i am out of shape? NO! i am in perfecto shape. i may not be built, but i'm a skinny guy, and that's enough for me. what it means, dearest reader, is that my bag is fucking packed. gnome wam sayin?

i'm leaving on a jet plane tomorrow at 7am! that's craziness because it means i have to get up in 4 hours! when oh when will they invent a pleasant fast way to travel? like instead of a teleporter that rips you into a million billion painful pieces, there should be a machine that melts you down into a delicious orgasmic creamy lightness and shoots you down fiberoptic cables. yes? i think you feel me.

so anyway, my thanksgiving vacation was longer than most, and it still went by in a flash. i didn't get to do all the things i wanted, but that's mostly because i spent three days in NYC. still i love NYC so much that it hurts when i leave. going back to idaho is just rubbing salt in my wounds. i was going to write up an entire hour-by-hour, day-by-day account of my visit to NYC, but i decided it would be way too boring. i had fun, and that's all that matters.

i also love coming back to the town that i grew up in, Jenkintown. it's like a dream visit back to my childhood, because, like in a dream, everything is pretty much the same except for some subtle differences. like on my street, everything looks exactly like it did 10 years ago, except there's now a house where someone's yard used to be. or there's a stop sign where there never was one before. it's enough change to surprise and amaze me, but not enough to sadden me.

i gots to get off my keister and do something with myself. is it too early to feel my mortality? i'm only twenty-three, but i feel my life slipping away.

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