. . .stumbling home past 3 am I realize that this is the first time I’ve done this in a long long time where there’s no one home waiting for me. Ann is away and the house is so. . .empty. Slipping back to old habits, the first album I turn to may be a bit cliche for late New York City nights with friends when your eyes are bleary, your head kinda hurts and you aren’t looking forward to how you’ll feel tomorrow — but it still sounds like a strange kinda perfection.
