The last time I came to NYC, I had some cranky things to say about Amtrak. I take it all back. My train ride from Syracuse was amazing. I pulled out my laptop and was working on my revisions before we left the station Five hours later, I powered down and pulled into New York. No stress, no hassle, total serenity. I may never fly again.
I signed stock at Bank Street Books and had coffee with a friend who recently moved here and is now living the swanky city life, sort of. Grabbed Thai food for dinner (hard to find in Oswego County, NY) and slept like death. I think I am fighting a cold, so I’ve been pounding tea and honey.
I see bunches of students today and have to sign books again. If I’m lucky, I’ll be asleep by 8pm. Yes, I am pathetic that way, but I am tired and I really do not want to get sick.
Before I go, I need to rant about something. Have any of you seen the television coverage of the tragic murder of Pamela Vitale? She was allegedly murdered by a 16-year-old in her home in California. My heart goes out to the family of this poor woman, and if the kid they have in custody really did it, then I don’t want him on the streets again. But I am furious at the way the media has grabbed on to the label of “Goth” as if a) it is a bad thing, and b) it has anything to do with the fact that this woman was murdered. I heard one story that pointed out his parents separated a few days before the incident. Hello? Do you think the fact that there is clearly pain and stress in his house may have led to the fabled depression of this boy? Not according to some news stories. To hear them, it’s those darn trenchcoats. They are the root of all evil. Give me a break.
Actually, I found an online news piece that examines this situation in a little more depth.
Are you frustrated with the stupid way much of media treats the Goth subculture? What can be done about this?
So the tree fell down a couple hours ago. Across the driveway. This meant our car was not going to get out of the driveway. Old dead trees are several tons heavier than they look.
Fire up the chainsaw and call a friend with a pick-up truck.
Stay the heck out of the way, mostly. I picked up lots of bark. Tried to avoid poison ivy. I took pictures. I mused about the inevitability of rot and death, and renewed my loathing for most insects. (They crawled down my arms when I picked up wood.) And I said a prayer of gratitude that the tree did not fall on any people or cars, or at 5:30 tomorrow morning. The guys finished clearing the driveway just before sunset. It was exhausting work watching them. I am drained. I think I need to curl up in front of the fireplace, burning bug-free wood, and watch Monday Night football.