Well, I wasn’t planning to take my birthday week off, but…it’s been a week! Man, time flies when you are. But now I’m back.
I write so much, but publish so little. I think about even more things than I write about, especially as regards politics. Our world is changing, everyone’s world is changing, and I want to capture some of that. But I don’t.
Maybe next week.
Getting it all on the Substack is a challenge. Writing takes time and focus, and a degree of stability. I’m lacking all those right now. Go-go-go…that’s my life this year.
Now I’m back in New York City, in Harlem, but ranging all over the place. Having a blast. As much as I’ve traveled, as many places as feel like home now, New York remains special. I’ve visited many of my old haunts, some of the sites for my show, to get re-inspired, and hitting my fav restaurants for things like the best ceviche ever:
And then there are my favorite chocolate chip cookies, at Levain Bakery. A friend and I renamed it Leviathan Cookies for their epic size…delicious, and a great help for me in my work building a proper Dad bod…
(And this reminds me, gotta hit Fette Sau in Williamsburg for the best barbecue in New York…)
So I’m at rest for a bit, back in a familiar and beloved place. But not for long. I’m back in London in a week, and then back to Italia just in time for Bologna Pride. Beyond that, I’m still trying to figure out where I will land back in Europe, since I am now officially homeless again. I have a month to hunker down and live a “normal” daily life for a bit. Then the travel starts again. I may stay around Italy. I may go back to Berlin. Depends on a number of factors.
I wrote quite a bit about our flurry of travel adventures getting from the Adriatic coast to Bologna to London to New York in 24 hours, but…it was almost as exhausting writing about it as it was doing it, so I dropped it. Let it suffice to say that Italy is also home, a rental car is a good thing, people are kind in general, but Bolt drivers are not to be trusted (but my wounds are healing) and Ryanair can kiss my ass!!
And never, ever, ever again, I swear to God: Stansted Airport in (or near) London. Getting to and from is a freakin’ nightmare scenario. Hate. Not worth the savings. Oh, and did I mention that Ryanair can kiss my ass?
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