I write to you by candlelight, the bright lights of Manhattan dancing on the horizon outside my window. Inside our apartment, everything smells like cinnamon and autumn and I drink a beer that tastes like cloves. Everything is warm these days, and I want to live forever under blankets, reading, writing, thinking. Then, when forever is done, I want to take the train for the next forever, riding into sunsets, past the places we have all, regrettably, forgotten.
Tonight I bought a cd by the Low Anthem and it's beautiful, songs about train rides from Louisiana to Ohio and it, as so many things do, makes me want to be wearing gingham and far away from computers and e-mail and all that which I'm not sure has made us a better people.
I loved tonight, watching the new Coen brothers movie (A Serious Man) and drinking tea in the bookstore until midnight and dancing down Broadway to the subway but, ah, what I would give to buy and live out my days in that bookstore in Idaho.
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