"I'll be waiting on your train when you come back through the western state"

This is Victor, Idaho - one of the greatest towns I've ever been to! Brad and Jet have an awesome VW van, pictured here, along with their beautiful home.

set the sails, I feel the winds a'stirrin'

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.

pining for the moon

My friend Andrew convinced me to actually keep up with this blog, so here I am, at 10:36 at night, sitting in my friend Kim's house before going to bed and writing to you, my dear unknown reader, of things close to my heart. I am back in the place I truly have missed more than I believe it's possible to explain. It doesn't make much sense, I suppose, to miss a place where I lived only for six months, but Wyoming, and Pinedale, have such a pull on me. I felt so emotional that I almost cried when I crossed the border from Idaho to Wyoming, listening to Bob Dylan and Carrie Rodriguez and, passing Fremont, I breathed. Understand I love New York City and I know my time to really hunker down in Pinedale has passed, but I write secret love letters to Wyoming all the time, believing those thoughts will somehow meander across the country and land in the tree branches now covered in yellow and soon to be gloriously, genuinely bare.