i woke up this morning singing some song which my subconscious furnished to me
it was “the only living boy in new york”
by the 20th century’s greatest song writer
that means he beat out hugo wolf and a lot of other dead guys
 
it also means that i am starting my trip HOME today
and that i am happy
“tom get your plane right on time
i know your part’ll go fine…
hey – i got nothing to do all day but shine”
 
here are some germs of things which never fully developed into posts
ask me when you see me again
they have a curious resemblance to jeopardy categories:
 
Things I’ve Seen Fall out the Doors of Moving Buses
More Indian Definitions
Scenes from Indian Construction
Why I Really Went to India
Acts of Kindness
Indian Skills 101
Public Service Announcements
India: the Cure for Writer’s Block
Deedle Doo Dah, Deedle Doo Dah, Deedle Doo Dah Day
Cutting it Close
 
flying indian air to bombay this afternoon
then dinner with p and m
then waiting into the wee hours for flight to jfk
then a hop home