A couple weeks ago I traveled far. Saw much. Lived heartily.

Had one of the best weekends of my life. And then…

I moved to New York City. If developments here have seemed erratic and overall spacey, this is why.

I live in the same city as Rose! How cool is that?

I lost my wallet on the first day (long story) and had to go get a new credit card at the World Financial Center, which was right next door to ground zero.

Not much has changed.

I’ve been walking by myself alot. In Chicago this would make me lonely. There’s so much to see here. It’s more like exploring.

We went to the New York Tyrant Babyleg thing and it was too fucking crazy so we left immediately. I think we got there too late and missed Brian Evanson thumb-printing his book with blood. Kind of a bummer.

This was the moment when the feeling of being untethered washed away.

And this was the moment I realized I loved this city.

Oh! And I moved into our new office.

Which I will be sharing with none other than Mr. Todd Jordan!

So, preeeeetty fucking psyched about that.

As I unpacked all my stuff I jammed this and thought about Kurt Cobain and how people who kill themselves are fucking idiots. Then again, maybe they’ve been to a depth of depression that I’ll never know about. Or at least, I hope I never will.

I think it’s pretty unlikely seeing as I finally live in a city where I feel like I belong.