I am going to New York.
This week has not been much of a farcical romp. Maybe in New York I will recapture my elusive whimsy.
Whimsy and romp: these are the things I live for.
Prancing, too.
But you already knew that.
This week I have been sullen and morose.
I realize I have used a lot of adjectives.
Sometimes when writers feel sullen and morose, they turn to alcohol.
Not me.
I turn to annoying descriptors.
I need to recapture the zany.
Zany is what I am.
I am the walking personification of Klezmer music.
I will tell you if I find anything in New York.
