As promised, here is my the compilation of blog entries I composed in New York.

DAY ONE

Ugh. Insomnia. Waking up at four has contributed a great erosion to my sanity. Nevertheless, I lurched around the house, gathering the last few possessions I hadn't packed yet. I know I've forgotten something important; such is the way of travel, but I dare not waste precious caffeine to fuel extra brain cells to think about it. Driving to the airport was hilarious; Sterling and I experienced the intense high that accompanies severe sleep-deprivation. I could've laughed at a stopsign for hours. A little late to the airport, but who would've cared, as it would then be two hours before we would even board the plane. I seem to recall Julia passing her hand straight through my transparent body several times as I resided in teenage wraith form.

Once the caffeine of my mother's black coffee hit me, however, I brightened up a bit, and my undead state has now nearly subsided. Airline security was actually quite nice to me, ignoring my pocket watch, belt buckle, spare change, and bomb. They win some, they lose some, I guess. Sterling's search was more an amusing ordeal. after several minutes of the obese, nocturnal security guard waving about the poor guy with silly electronic gadgets, it was discovered that his shoes contain metal plates in their soles. Most inconvenient for him, but funny as hell all the same. Once we had finished running about the moving sidewalk contraption several times, we boarded our plane, were captured on camcorder multiple times by Mr.Raddin, and attempted to refrain from making jokes regarding mass, violent hysteria and engine explosions. An extremely difficult task this was indeed. I couldn't refrain from making a few bowling ball candle jokes, but who really can? Explosions are just too awesome to be left out of most conversations.

We're landing soon. Ahead lies the Metropolitan Museum of Art and much rest in the hotel. Perhaps the left wing will snap off and no one will ever read this!

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And now, a pause from the journal, as the first day has now ended. I have put together a list of pretty fucked up private joke-quotes, and since it's in this little book, it's going on the blog.

A computer-animated tube flies across the TV screen, which is tuned to the weather channel. "There will be a 70% chance of tubes on Tuesday." -Sterling

"Operation: Iraqi Fuck You" -Me

"Starfucks" -Me

"I'll walk you through the Renaissance" -Sterling, in response to a suggestion to walk through the Renaissance exhibits of the Museum a second time

"Granite, it's Julia!" -Sterling, attempting to correct Julia in the material our bench was made of

"That's neo-black shit" -Me, describing a very large, black, gothic arched building with revolving doors (New York is so kickass!)

"My mom shot Florida." -Sterling's misinterpretation of my description of my mother's hometown

"I say a lot of things. They all involve making fun of someone with a swear word." -Me. It's true.

"Shit! That's an onion!" -Me, most distressed after hitting my head on a painting of an onion

"Will is for sucks." -Sterling, describing how much Will just sucks. Kinda like how the S is for sucks in the Trogdor flash movie.

-End of list

DAY TWO

End of the day already. This hotel room is the manifestation of pure, distilled messy shit. In the corner opposite my chairly perch lies The Table, containing the holy bible, phonebook, and Sterling's speakers/subwoofer/CD player. In my own bed resides all the clothes, film, money, and other shiny objects I've strewn about this place during the last 36 hours. On the floor is the N64, source of the entertainment we indulge in during our few spare hours in here. This, several pieces of music, paper money, and water bottles help create the setting we currently call home. This is New York City. Out our very window, down on 45th St., we have witnessed two arrests, five billion passerbys, and one car accident.

I feel as though I belong here. This city is so overwhelmingly interesting. One could go clinically insane just trying to comprehend how all this is even in existence. This people, all walking a hundred miles per hour, each one of them with some important destination, some ultimate goal in mind. And the buildings! The sheer amount of structures here blocks out natural sunlight and illuminates the streets only by reflection. There are two-story fast food chains, karate classes to be observed from windows, and all this wondrous architecture. St.Patrick's Cathedral for Christ's sake! It's amazes me. The heartbeat of the city consumes me already. I look outside now, at 1 A.M., and these crazy city-dwelling bastards are still walking around. Maybe none of them have jobs. I really could conclude that they all just walk around on the widewalk all day. But I could watch them for hours. And street performers. And hot dog stands. I can't describe it all! Today alone I swa the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, South Street Seaport, Times Square, and a Broadway musical.

Tomorrow is Grand Central Station, the Empire State Building, and a lot of grueling rehearsal.

DAY THREE

I am so tired. I feel as though my back is weighed down by some huge iron ball. Rehearsal is over, for now at least- our break, lunch at Grand Central Station, is next.

In Grand Central Station, I just ate some sushi at Masa Japanese. I haven't had that oppurtunity in years, and now that I have tasted eel, tuna, and avocado out of a little box once again, I do believe I could live on the stuff. Especially here. The seafood in New England tastes even better now than the lobster I sampled in Maine. The awesomeness of the meals we have eaten is comparable to, I don't know, something really awesome. Like chopsticks. And I've got some chopsticks.

Second half of this six-hour rehearsal now. Pretty soon it shall begin, and our hyperactive, bouncy, enthusiastic conductor will emerge from some important conference and coax from us what little cellular energy we still retain. Soon we may not have enough to keep our hearts beating. I'm doing a little better now, but there's really just something about this room that makes me incredibly sleepy. I stagger in my cushiony chair. And that's just one of the things. We have chairs with cushions. In a choir rehearsal. Usually we don't sit much at all in a serious pre-concert rehearsal, much less have decent chairs. It is a pretty nice hotel.

Back from dinner at some dumb Chuck E. Cheeseish restaurant. Did the Empire State Building too. A busy day. I'm tired. I'm dizzy with having so much fun, DIZZY I TELL YOU! I am numb with this giddy feeling.

I called Larkin and she's not home! Alas, loneliness! And that DAMNABLE JULIA RUINING MY STOICISM! I was doing fine until she taunted me with my sweetheart's name.

DAY FOUR

Concert day. Today's the day we do this shit- sing in Lincoln Center, with the whole feature choir thing and all. This day may drain the last reserves of energy I have, but I don't give a damn. I fully intend to sing better than I ever have. I shall bombard the choir with my powers of deep-voiced, cultivated yelling. Fortissississimo.

Dear sweet Jesus Christos. Figuratively. I haven't had a spare second to write in here today. Six hours of rehearsal, lunch, soundcheck in the concert hall, listening to Mr.Raddin's speeches; it's been insane. I called Larkin tiwce today- once in the hotel, and once half an hour before the beginning of the concert. No luck. Oh, how I miss her! The smell of the Lincoln Center gift shop is that of her hair! It will be blissful to return home.

Despite my lack of contact with the less awesome city I live in, today has been the most amazing experience for me ever, at least from a choral standpoint. To sing that great music in that world-class concert hall, to be led by that madman of a conductor eradicated my insomnia and motivated me beyond all earthly measure. Singing is the closest thing of a spiritual awakening I will ever have. I just can't describe it. I may as well have been preaching to that little crowd of 200 people, next to the worst tenor in the choir. I become filled with such passion that I just block out all other sound and... I give up. This trip has been indescribably awesome.

DAY FIVE

I'm on the plane now, in my damned seat right by the wing of the plane. The mighty roar of the engines takes away a small percentage of my hearing as the flight attendants show us how to use seatbelts (in case you haven't been in a CAR since 1965). All the tiredness I suppressed in the magnificence of yesterday's performance has slumped itself on my shoulders, but who the hell cares, as I always rant about sleeplessness. I can't wait to get home. I just can't wait. But I shall lay down my longing for the warmth of a human embrace, wrap it in a straight-jacket of straight-faced, emotionless masculinity in the hopes of writing about today. It's my last resort.

Chinatown. That was where I was this morning. Chinatown! In New York City! It was grand! I stepped out of our coach bus and found myself in a newfound dimension of small Asians in leather jackets and baseball caps, 25 cent stores where one must bargin with his soul for a cheap wristwatch. The smell of seafood and exotic teas was around me, as I had long ago become accustomed to all the ambient air pollution of the city. I came, I shopped, I left armed and even more dangerous than usual. My souveniers, in sequential order of awesomeness, are two set of teacups (one for Larkin), some throwing knives, and some wonderfully aromatic green tea I bought for 95 cents. I've still got 80 dollars left over in spending money. I am a giddy choirboy-tourist. All I need to be a complete individual is REM sleep and human warmth.

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Thus ends my report. Damn that was awesome.