Your Moment of Americana:

Me, driving a stick-shift car from the beaches of Alabama to New Orleans, listening to Lynrd Skynrd, wearing blue jeans and a red bikini halter top. I'd much rather be in a navy-blue wool coat under a grey sky day, because that is how I feel most comfortable, but it feels so good to try on someone else's skin and realize that it's your own.

Tonight I'm suffused with longing. Where are you? I need you. I'll be over it tomorrow. What good is this without you?

The things that are not worth posting because people will wonder and worry and bother you about them later. Don't; it's just Late At Night In New Orleans hitting me hard and laying me low. The heat leaves me without ambition and incapable of any emotion but desire and nostalgia.