"And, clear, " all over again. Thanks to Krissa and Stuart I was able to get out of the city this morning without subjecting myself to the barbarisms of the LIRR. Much love to them, and to K's parents who brilliantly gave her the car for the week. It's just as well; this stupid neverending cold of mine is kicking up again. The last thing I needed was to stand in line at Jamaica.

Still, in a strange way I'm missing being a part of this piece of New York history. Missing being with the girl, a lot. But relishing being home again, with the warmth and the food and the m-hey m-hey.

As for the strike itself, fuckem. The TWU is full of shit, they're asking too much. The MTA's full of shit, they're giving too little. And we're all caught in the middle, getting fucked over from above and below, as per usual. I find myself forced to support the TWU on this one by a smidge, if only because I support the cause of worker's rights, and because I think the Taylor Law is bad voodoo. But then, I'm not walking for two hours over an East River bridge in freezing temperatures. I think I'd feel differently if I were.