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i spent ten hours semi-conscious in an exit row (aisle from honolulu to san francisco, window from san fran to jfk), occasionally sifting through the wall street journal. i don't know when everything i used to make fun of my family for liking (macneil-lehrer newshour, coffee, cooking shows, jogging, reading newspapers—at least i'm not knitting anything) suddenly became interesting to me. spent more time in queens rush hour than i've spent in the borough for a year, then saw my boy and got my brains fucked out. we refueled at our corner table inside 7a, i stupidly went through my work inbox remotely, then eventually bed, sweaty sheets.

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