I was in New York for a few days - one part business, two parts family - and my sister's partner Graham let us follow him in to Manhattan to steal a peek from his penthouse studio (he's an artist, no less!) in midtown. Well, it was New York in March, so even though we had SoCal weather the day before, Sunday was most definitely New Yorkish. It was pretty hairy outside, lots of rain and a really shitty view, but I came away with a couple of decent panoramas, especially this one with Empire State Building slightly remodeled by my unfortunate choice of focal lengths.

It took a pretty gothic S-curve to restore the contrast to this image - it was really pouring and windy out there on the edge of the roof.

Ok, a few days late, but I managed to make it home and just barely avoid what would have easily been the worst flight of my life. A few keywords so I can avoid having to relive the whole experience in prose: rude metrosexual, hairless dog, nonstop barking, angry passengers, t-minus 5 minutes, kindly ejected from flight.

As usual, New York was a lumpy mix of unadulterated adrenaline, impossible productivity, and a lightening of the bank account reminiscent of a good old fashioned commie wallet burning party. Photodocumentary evidence forthcoming.

Oy. Ok, I've decided participating in a lollypop orgy was not the smartest thing I've ever done, speaking bacteriologically. Anyway, too late now, I'm sick as a dog, with some of the most alien looking stuff evacuating from my not inconsiderable nasal passages.

Time to hit the conference this morning, with zero sleep, doped up on antihistamines, epinephedrine, and whatever else is in the Sudafed cocktail.

In NYC for 48 hours now; I'm staying in Ina's fab loft in Brooklyn, with fellow houseguests The Yes Men. Last night we went to a packed art opening, where Ina's boy Graham Parker was representing. Some of his current work consists of various pieces constructed from snippets of SPAM, the Patriot Act, and other interesting literary sources. Last night he was distributing newspapers composed almost entirely of excerpts from spam, 419 scams, and other online noise.

We also managed a 7 way lollypop orgy - all the disease vectors of a regular orgy, but none of the fun! I'll just leave it at that.