Donkey Punch.

Ever spend so much time travelling you feel like you've been donkey punched? I'm beginning to feel that way a little bit.

America, I am writing to you from the Starbucks in the Jet Blue terminal in Logan Airport. It's not a bad one, I'm sitting at a nice cafe bar thing typing on my my white ibook, so I pretty much look like every other yuppie asshole ever. I think that's OK, as I have become one of those people. I'm even wearing the new fleece my Mom got me for Christmas. There is one annoying thing that keep happening - some little timer for the airport internet servicekeeps popping up, which for whatever reason interferes with my typing until I click it to go away.

So it's New Year's Eve, and I am hoping to be ringing it in in my apartment by myself, or maybe with Betty Ann and some pizza from Palermo's, assuming they are even open. After doing Massachusetts, southern New Jersey, New York City, Connecticut and Massachusetts again in nine days, I'm really quite looking forward to passing out after eating a handful of clonopin, washed down with a glass of white wine from a box. I 'm thinking I'll wake up sometime around 2 pm tomorrow, which suits me just fine.

I am glad I did this trip though for two reasons. My 85 year old Grandmother, and her 90 year-old sister, my Great Aunt. They are living testimonials to the belief that not matter what, you just have to keep going. There is something to the New Jersey temperment that way, I suppose. A strange blend of optimism, selective perception, and the ability to leave things behind that are not going to benefit you in the long run. I am trying to pick up that habit, with the hope that it will come naturally from genetics.