I closed the door behind me and the reeking began (Look ma, a narrative sentence!). And it continued, down Shotwell, up 24th, all the way to the BART station. That good old RUST reek. Because of the first dampness of the season misting down and mixing with the asphalt and piss and trash? Who knows, but stanky for sure. Someone painted STOCK MARKET CRASH on the mural and then I saw Bill Berkson's doppelganger on the elevator and a bunch of really badly dressed men. So I treated myself to a juice with a vitamin-c boost. Because BB's sick and we breathe a lot of the same air. And! one must be as healthy as possible before a trip to the Midwest. Because you mostly don't eat vegetables and there are rivers of whiskey. We're going to Cincinnati tonight! First we're going to Minneapolis and then Detroit and then Dayton (Stephanie, are you checking your bags?) and then Dana is picking us up from the airport half a day after we leave the earth and enter the air via SFO. And yeah, we're opening for Wynton Marsalis and I plan to read poems about genitals and cash.