contradiction

it's true: sometimes I dislike Americans. But oddly, I love New Yorkers.

And to me, New York is the subway.

it's white, black, brown, and yellow.
it's the unlikely offspring of all such combinations.
it's the voluntary reading of books.
it's thugs producing lip balm from the sleeve pocket of their poofy jackets.
it's the copious presence of white earphones.
it's a group of 12 girls--and 24 ankle socks--straight from Hachiko Crossing.
it's the hipster who I can forgive being a hipster because of the urgency with which he scribbles in his notebook.
it's no one noticing that my winter clothes consisted of 3 shirts and a raincoat.

the oddest thing about arriving home is that it wasn't odd at all.
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I'm in York, Maine, for Christmas with the family. When I arrived there were about 2 or 3 feet of snow on the ground. I went skiing. I built a snowman.

Things both oddly close and oddly far away from recent tropical evenings.
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It looks like I'll be in Baltimore from December 26th to 31st, then heading to NYC for New Years and early January. Drop me a line.