New York is a fury. She shines and blushes like the fruit of temptation, but bite into her flesh and she bites back. Not like a lover, but like a cornered animal. I love her, but she didn't love me back.

Vodeville is a siren calling through the mists of the ocean, removing the need for a jellied lens to soften her smoky gaze. She called and I answered. Pen poised, I'm ready for her to fill me with her stories.

And then there's that whole earning a living lark. I guess we'll see.

[AIM as soon as I can thinka somethin! Hello.]