snapshots of the tour so far.

well, this whole “blogging regularly” project hasn’t worked out too terribly well. call it activity, apathy or just a short attention span — and I don’t even have a camera. here are some random anecdotes about the things I have been doing:

— take the train cross-country if you can. the delay in Chicago, the random men hitting on me, the fever, the crusty tights, the neck cramps: all were worth the sight of the country gradually getting snowier, the frosted auto graveyards in the desert, being woken up by the sunrise, a surprise layover in Albuquerque that allowed for an awesome breakfast with my old and dearly missed friend Christian.

— Dover, NH in the winter is so beautiful it looks staged.

— April Ranger and her housemates have a tiny, mangy, screaming cat with a withered ear. Her name is Edith Piaf. it was love at first sight. (same goes for the house, April’s lovely family and roommates, the entirety of Jamaica Plain — not to get too sappy in a public place)

— one lovely and surprising highlight of the trip so far: the record release performance of Molly Allis’ ridiculously beautiful album Pilgrim. check it out.

— Manhattan can suck it. Times Square is human ingenuity taken to its grossest excess. my retinas are still shell-shocked.

— another lovely and surprising highlight: I’ve seen so much family on this trip that I haven’t seen in years and years. People I haven’t seen in so long that I forgot I missed them.

— Portland, Maine is like a larger and colder Santa Cruz, without the surfers. that’s both a compliment and a slight. Ryan, Wil, Heidi, Jen and their enormous crowd of reptiles were all lovely and welcoming to me, though I didn’t find out that there was a cryptozoology museum until 12 hours before I left. blast, blast.

— Portland also saw fit to send me a lovely reminder that I am not, in fact, a lone freak in the world. for that, it will always occupy a special place in my heart.

— if you didn’t already know, Alex Charlambides is an amazing human and a friend to dizzy travelers. without him ferrying me around and generally being cool and calm, I’d’ve never made it through my four tornado days. same goes for Greg McKillop (for the sugar bombs and general rocking), Nick “Biebs” Davis (for the dances, the warmth and the electricity in the face of sleep deprivation), the McMillan family (except for Biscuit), Peter and James at one of the coolest high schools I’ve ever seen, and probably a hundred other people that have escaped my sleep-addled little brain.

— in fact, the enormity of how good Worcester was to me will not fit in a blog post, so I’ll summarize the best way I know how: Miss America 1976 is jealous as fuck.

— and Providence, you aren’t so bad yourself.

— Shortly before my Cantab feature, I began feeling a little sick and chalked up the puking to jitters. did some poems, hung out a little, drank a little bourbon, got some lentil soup, and then spent most of the slam going full-on Linda Blair in the bathroom. it was by far the sickest I have ever been, and I am brimming with gratitude to Simone Beaubien for nursing me back to health and wellness and allowing me to sleep in her home for 40 hours.

…which brings us to today, still in Boston with Simone. I was supposed to be in Jersey City yesterday, but had to cancel due to the aforementioned stomach virus/food poisoning/nastiness. Sorry, Jersey City. I’ll catch you next time.

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