I’m writing from the wilds of central Kentucky, in Jon Vaden’s farmhouse built in 1798, twenty whole years before our farm was built upstate, and it feels good to be back among ancient surroundings. Along with Tessa (who flew back to New York from New Orleans) I’ve been on the road since September 7th, and there’s only one more day between me and home.
My wanderlust is unquenchable, and I don’t know if I could travel far enough or long enough to be happy sitting in one town for more than a season. One time back in 2000, Sean and I realized we hadn’t been off the island of Manhattan in two months, and so I had to hop in my shitty car and drive to Rockland County just so my brain cleared.
taken with Tessa’s Treo
Chopes has been a good companion on this trip, even though his Idiopathic Vestibular Syndrome