I am reading a book that just got off a plane from California one week ago, but was purchased at the Strand for 11.30, and caused me to wonder if I should disinfect the book because of its mystery previous owners. Anyway the best part of the travelling book goes a little like this:

If you want to know how you really feel about someone, take note of the impression an unexpected letter from him makes on you when you first see it on the doormat.
Said Schopenhauer.


So today I made a mixed tape and a letter for my friend who is in a town where the debates are happening tonight. The same town that houses the college of my little brother, and the same town where my twin friends Gretchen & Ginger moved in the 4th grade.

I enjoyed them, but they lived by the prison called "Wildwood", so we never played at their house. The same prison that my littlest brother & I would later explore on bikes, trying to reenact E.T.

Our bikes never left the ground.

On Sunday I put my favorite Sunday activities in order:
1. laying on the couch with a head-ache while watching TLC & spooning a needy yellow lab who rests her heavy head in my arms.
2. painting trim while listening to Joni Mitchell records & humming.
4. waking up early and running, and then laying in bed again and listening to the radio (studio 360 & This American Life) between 1&4 while the sun is shining in my window like a sailboat.
5. riding some random subway alone to the end and walking around.

Something I realized last night is that sometimes life is more medical than miracle.

View of and through windows that I see every day.