Another week has gone by. It felt like a few hours. I really can't say that I know where the week
went.

I don't know what to say
about this week. I miss America - more than that: Americana.

I want to walk around in
corn and tobacco fields. I want to move
in with Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams.

I want to go to a baseball
game, in Baltimore, on the harbor - listen to bats crack and buy a beer for
seventeen dollars and fifty cents. (Send my regards to Barry Bonds and Roger
Clemens. They look good in suits.)

I want to drive an old
Chevrolet through New Jersey, make some friends in a diner over some snapper
soup, drive to Strathmere Beach, and light a fire somewhere in the
sand - Springsteen blaring in the background.

I want to sit at Lincoln's
feet next to the Potomac, sometime after midnight - once the tour groups in
matching T-Shirts are long gone and tucked in at the District Motel 6.

But I'm glad I'm here. Something tells me that the minute I checked
all of those things off the list and paid a few of you a visit - I'd be aching
for this place far more than I ache for America right now.

That's a scary thought with only
two months left here...

a few photos from the week -

This is James. or Pietey Boy.

This is Christo.

This is Simon. Car guard extraordinaire, self proclaimed N.W.A. - wikipedia the term if you'd like.