...to officially pop this blog's cherry. This missive is being transmitted from the 22nd story of the New Yorker Hotel. Its a gorgeous spring day in the Big Apple and I am presently battling jet lag having made the transatlantic crossing yesterday on a bucket of bolts not dissimilar to the jerry-rigged contraption from 'The Last Flight of Noah's Ark.' This ordeal has left me dehydrated, with ankles swollen to the dimensions of cantaloupes and my brain shriveled to the size of an apologetic walnut. In my efforts to recalibrate the old internal clock I took to the hostelries of this great city last night with the charming Siobhan de Stefano and her beau Kevin (pictured with the author, right), settling in nicely at the Subway Inn on E 60th and Lex for multiple Stellas and a styrofoam box of vaguely evil chicken wings. We were joined by the lovely singer-songwriter Marye Lobb, who is off on a tour of the US with her latin-themed lullabies which I have been happily listening to while I prepare for the next leg of my trip to Austin, Texas for SXSW. I live in hope of traveling on an aircraft which would not qualify for display in the Smithsonian for a number of years yet. If I make it in one piece I shall, dear reader, continue to post my dispatches here.
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