I remember you well at the Chelsea Hotel.

I picked the wrong day to gallivant around town in a pair of cotton ballet flats. However. Tea with the poet laureate wouldn't have been quite the same if it was sunny out. She seems to think I'm prolific enough to put out a Collected Works one day. I told her she was giving me too much credit. She looked at me like I had two heads. I dare you to start submitting, she said. Double dare.

My Tarot readings have been really murky these last couple of days. It's making me nervous. They've been predicting things like civil unrest and stagnation and infidelity and deceit and new beginnings. Three days running, the six of wands has shown up in the future. A journey by water or air... I would stop caring so much, but they're always right. There is so much to do today. So much packing. So much recycling. Fortunately, all my laundry is clean for the first time in what feels like all of human history. I have to catch the airport shuttle at five thirty tomorrow morning. All day I've been feeling really sad, and only half an hour ago did I figure out why. Blegh. Calgary. Here I come.