i feel like i’m sort of betraying my 7 year old self, and this is probably the most intimate thing i’ve ever published, and the most meaningful page i’ve ever written. june 1, 1998:ImageImagewent to storm king on sunday and it was an amazing, amazing day.  after a breakfast out in NYC (a date cranberry scone and two coffees). we started on a beautiful drive through the mountainside, hugging the Hudson river. we peed on the roadside. we had a picnic with brie and apricots, fresh bread, strawberries, roasted red peppers and prosciutto, olives and pistachios, we witnessed first hand the most intense cicada plague imaginable: waves of them present both by sound and sight. we explored the most beautiful valleys and meadows and mountainside with green you’ve never seen, we ate ice cream on a “Main St,” it was maple walnut. and drank beers and ate burgers at a roadside stop…

in other news, i explored Staten Island, a literal garbage dump, suburbia confused and contained…slightly wretched, but with beautiful botanical nooks.

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