November 7th, 2002 (googbye country, hello bluegrass)

i raised the blinds on my trans america red eye jet blue, raising the curtain on another act of my life. caught the sun climbing up over nyc for touch down jfk: little girl lost with an army bag and a broken heart, back from the war, preparing for battle, no direction home. scott had offered to pick me up, i didn’t think it was necessary, i've navigated a few citiies in my life, taken some trains, escaped the banditos of payachelle and the vampires of krakov, i figured i could take the A train to 6th avenue without too much ado. so i bought myself a subway token and boarded the next manhatten bound train, emerging some 45 minutes later on positively 4th street, Avenue of the Americas, New York Freakin City. I had arrived, and was standing in the heart of greenwich village like dylan in the movies. i don’t remember being overwhelmed or intimidated right away, you could still make a phone call for a quarter and buy coffee and a dougnut from the streetcart for a dollar, there seemed to be a laundromat on every block, and i figured with clean clothes and cheap caffeine - just how bad could it be? it reminded me of paris or london or both depending on which way you were looking but with an endless flow of yellow chasing the street blocks in the both directions hurrying the brokers and the tokers to their daily toil, someones best friend to the airport.