the morning after the night before, when my sullen abuse of the term sociable played before a largely new crowd, we automobiled ourselves towards NJ and the mother of Beth. such journeying explains the dearth of reports concerning my innermost, which no doubt set you all aback. but here follows the full report of our travels, or if not that, then a healthy selection of photos from oh maybe 600 taken. I'm most particularly fond of the shots in which I can remember or at least vaguely parse out why I took them. those pix go into my special category. but sooth to say, I mayn't be at this long, as 3 hours sleep doesn't seem to've brought Mr Sleepy Head much rest. a largely non-exciting ride down, except that Beth had to stop at Ikea in Connect-I-Cut, which served to throw us into NYC oh about rush hour of a monday pm. that took a while but New York looked pretty in the springtime glow, and nothing else slowed our journey. and really nothing much happened in Jersey by the great Atlantic. visits to the beach several times a day, some running, sketching, writing, eating. the most exciting thing I did was read again Alfred and Guinivere by James Schuyler. I'd liked it before but that was 30 years ago. I'd either forgotten or was too dumb to register how wonderful the book is. thanks to Jonathan Mayhew for mentioning it recently. I think now that it might be better than A Nest of Ninnies. NN is arch in a funny, lovingly pointless way. AG is simply a champion little novel. that it is brief is to its credit. seems like no off tones at all, nothing added for adding's sake. which is rare in novels. and I am a fan of the big bruisers of modern lit: Ulysses, Moby Dick, Remembrance of Things Past (I've only read Moncrief's translations, about which I have questions), etc. AG is succinct without being merely crisp. the humour is charming, especially Guinvere's letters and journals. Schuyler is so delicate and sly, like Twain at his best (points in Huck Finn). I'm too tired to extol properly now, so will only suggest that Bramholics line up behind copies of the book and read it up. I still like NN, but now see AG as mor complete. What's For Dinner? isn't in my library's network, so I haven't read it, but if I see it... Schuyler's diary awaits even now, which I look forward to. all else I read while away was a good deal of Maximus, some Whitman and some Jung. I guess I am ready to speak of yesterday's ride home. Beth, Erin and I decided it would be a good idea if we came home when every major artery in NJ was filled to the gills with traffic. a horrific crash of trucks very early yester morn resulted in the closing of the turnpike, so every alternate route enjoyed the benny of added traffic influx. and the good people, having gathered, followed their usual pursuits of the perfect tie up of traffic. the well timed crash here and there worked its magic. and all the while, we slyly in our ignorance chose to head towards Trenton and the point where Washington crossed the Delaware. that was lovely but we got a little confuzzled after leaving there so that we seemed to keep arriving in Trenton again and again. we also got the impression that Oldham Ave leads everywhere. once free from that loop, we found that all the likely routes our psychotically crummy map book offered were entropic. we reached a point where we stared at the map, knowing that the NJ Parkway, and 287, and 1 were all impossible, and no other lines on the map seemed to follow our intended direction. so we chose the Garden State Parkway which would've been real handy had we not opted to take a history lesson. which, again, was lovely. in Newark, I suppose, things started getting thick. apparently a lot of people live and work in NYC. 95 should've felt better, for that route passes just a few miles from home so it's got that local feel. but that local feel didn't make up for 10 mph progress. and too: in NJ, if you don't know, trained professionals must fill your tank with gas. the one who served us the day we arrived forgot to put the gas cap back on. that put a light on the dashboard into disconcerting warn mode, something about our emissions, it is trying to say. and plus furthermore, 8+ hours of idling kinda heated up the engine. nothing drastic in either case but kept us worrying. oh I didn't mench that while waiting at a light, someone bid us roll down the window to ask why we were in NJ. Beth said to see Washington's Crossing (being cagey about mentioning her mother). the guy said, glad you've come down here, it's nice to see Massachusetts people. I thought he was going to mention something about our gas cap, or maybe say choice words about Erin's Red Sox shirt. anyway, around 7pm we stopped at the Vince Lombardi service area, where you can read pearls of his wisdom if you need them while scarfing a Burger King burger. we ate and let the car cool. after that we inched toward the GW Bridge. at the last possible moment Beth executive decisioned us to rt 9 and/or Palisdes Parkway. we didn't know specifically where this would get us, but it at least let the car roar along at better than 10 mph. the engine felt better and it perked us up to go the speed limit. we zipped along to parts somewhat unknown, backtracked a scosh, noted that 9D runs parallel to the Hudson and must be wonderful in daylight. when we found good ole 84 we abandoned retro rockets and scooted. dog and cat apparently not maltreated by the girl who came in to feed them. so what did you do this past week?