Here’s a song.

I will, one day, write a book. It will be a really bad book, one that no one should read. Unless they’re feeling especially brave and would like to prove a point. It is a very common life goal, shared by several non-descript people, and a relatively tame ambition that few actually fulfill. I have been told that if I work hard at writing, I may have an outside chance of finishing it. Finding anyone willing to publish it will be a different matter altogether.

NON-SEQUITUR HERE: The first time I actually grasped that Douglas Adams is no more, and that there will be no more DNA books, was in 2009 (I think). I had just got a first edition copy of Last Chance To See (co-written with Mark Carwardine), and was reading the very first pages. I remember reading about the Chinese River Dolphin being closed to extinction (now extinct), and I realised how much DNA loved dolphins, fish and the water in general.

So I think my book ought to be called The Porpoise Of Meaning. I hope I don’t have to explain the pun or the book reference.

There is a reason for that: This is the best I can do.

On a clear moonless winter night
When the owls hoot in untamed delight
Escape the milling crowds for once, and
Look up, count the stars you dunce!

Understood? Great.

What do I do?

The only realistic option is to walk around the whole day, or try and catch a Broadway show (apparently cheap seats cost you the whole day in obtaining.)

Unless anyone has a better idea?

Mini review: First half is brilliant. The second half reads like a rushed summary, and feels almost like an old, dusty, weary historian apologizing to the world about British rule, pointing out items in its defence, and generally having quite a chip on his shoulder about America. Lots of quotes, anecdotes, strange bits of trivia. Very enjoyable book.

Also, the last week of my internship begins Monday. And then, time to pack my bags, get a ticket and get on a train.

That is all.

*whew*

Also, I miss Crax and ThumsUp. Funny, I didn’t like ThumsUp until they brought it back from the dead.

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This post because apparently, Facebook, twitter, Google+ and Gtalk aren’t enough for you guys. Happy now? Also, stop asking for pictures. Google for Manhattan photos. >.<

• I now live in Queens.
• My office is downtown.
• I saw Neil Gaiman yesterday. He didn’t have time to sign my FIRST EDITION DON’T PANIC, but he did have 500 copies of American Gods (of which I of course got one) and he did say he was sorry. And he had advice. (Imagine! Me, talking (if only via tiny twitter) to one of my favourite authors…)
• I saw a third of the Metropolitan Museum in one day.
• I went to some terrible (and expensive) dinners. I don’t like the advice I’m getting from some people. I’ll warn those people later.
• I have tickets to The Daily Show.
• I’m having more fun than I should, aren’t I?
• I’ve started reading again.

Yep.

I saw a couple of houses. One more tomorrow.

For Towel Day, I went to a British place called Tea and Sympathy in Manhattan with a couple of my friends. “It wuz good.” Not as good as Infinitea, mind you, these Poms and Yanks can’t really make a cup of masala chai, because they never understand it. And yet, it was good.

Yes, I live on someone’s sofa.

And yes, that makes it Tea, Sympathy and a Sofa. I know you don’t know what that means, but Towel Day just ended, and I’m happy enough to not explain it. I have my warm fuzzy towel, and the cold can’t get me…