Trash day is incredibly surreal

Greetings from Switzerland. I’m in my fourth city in six days, not counting taking off from New York. I’m exhausted, and I have the flu. But, at the moment, I also have a swank hotel room with a bathroom larger than my first apartment. Actually, the hotel room may be larger than our current apartment, and we have a floor-through. More ridiculously, turn-down service also included them setting out some fancy embroidered cloth for my bare feet to rest upon and slippers by the bed. It is all highly absurd. Anyway, this is a work thing, so not on my tab, because, really, I shudder to think.

It’s late here; six hours ahead of home, and 7 and 9 hours ahead of a lot of my friends. I’m tooling around on the Internet, having just failed to get tickets for the Starkid tour (although that mission continues, har har).

Mostly, though, I feel as disconnected from the world as I often do while traveling. My body clock is off; keeping up with the news is a bigger challenge; and my on-line habits are seriously disrupted. Patty and I talk when we can, but it’s all hard. I will say, however, that missing each other for two weeks is far sexier than when we have to miss each other for three or four months.

Meanwhile, there are just four days left to pre-order your copy of (re)Visions: Alice via Kickstarter. Four amazing stories (okay, I haven’t read them yet, but I know all the authors, and some details about some of the pieces) in one really cool anthology premise. I would strongly recommend checking it out.

And while I still need to deliver on some promised thinky thoughts about various TV programs, this small accounting of life lately has pretty much taken it out of me (flu + jet-lag = le suck), so it will have to wait. But hey, I totally called it on The Playboy Club, huh? Gone gone gone. Sort of sad, as I did really care about that Mattachine Society plot.

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