WAY OUT EAST

Been out on the North Fork of Long Island for the last few days, holed up in a friend's empty house in Orient. In full Reclusive Writer Mode: walking in circles, talking to nobody but myself, skipping rocks on a short pebbly beach, blasting the same Thelonious Monk album (Monk's Dream) over and over, eating my friend's kids' ice cream bars and drinking tumblers of Wild Turkey & Diet Coke (note: I am doing this ironically; don't try this at home). My friend's friend lent me a giant supertanker of an old Mercedes to get me to the market to buy more ice cream bars. It goes zero to 20 in just under a minute & when it's rolling it ain't gonna stop for nothing. It is the best. I love it out here. Wish I was doing this all summer. I have more tennis balls to practice serving and more Herzog-like letters to compose in my brain. Alas I am headed back to the city today. Actually writing this from the bus. A bus w/ wi-fi. Which is all you need to know about this bus.