Spoke with a (oh, here I'd like to say that today is an Easter as in Patti kind of jour) Shiney Apple pal last night who informed me that there were no degrees over there to the right. None. At least the Middling City has a few rattling about. Few. Far between, unlike the flakes that are congregating along my driveway. But did I mention I have a new and super-improved Golden Forester under my ass as of about twenty-four hours ago. Turned in the leased former Golden Forester and told William at the dealer's joint that I wanted more more and did not want to pay more more more. I said Look, Jerry Lundegaard, I don't give a phyling phlegm about klear-kote, none of those gadgetries. I want gold. I want manual trannie. I want same payments. I, in a nutshell, want a lot. And I sat there, in hat pulled over my eyebrows and down jacket pulled up to my chin and dykesville boots on my feet for hours negotiating until William whined But now we're not making ANY money on this car. Ummm, William, remind me to pencil in on my agenda to give a fuck about that some time. He had the car waiting just outside the door, seats set to 50 Kelvin and the moment my Perfect self hit that seat I knew it was it. It. We drove and we drove and we drove the backroads, chatting about all things vehicular. Taking high winding curves, stopping on a dime at a most inconvenient stop sign at the bottom of a hill, turning a U at a breathtaking clip. Best part is the cd changer and I've been driving the horrid blustery MC in a techno cloud. Just saw my pal Colleen at *BX who gave me a super-bonus shot of expresso (espresso in the MC) after our mutual sadness and musings on this ultimate Snapcase gig this fine evening at Snowplace. It is sold out. I will not be there as I am not shooting it and I could call Darryl and see if he wants any but really, shall I. Hmmm, now I am wondering. There are shiney bottles of tequila there to keep warm.

Warm ponderous love.