Today’s soundtrack: You were always on my mind, you were always on my mind.
Today at 8:02pm: At my pad having Pad Thai from Thai Angel.


I want to go to Cuba for Christmas.

My parents took off today and won’t be back ‘til January. My brother’s returned to his home out west, might be back in June. Last but not least Businessgirl has to head back to her parents’ place for Christmas, so come the 25th it’s just gonna be me and the pigeons.

If Santa comes down my chimney on Christmas Eve he’s going to find me downloading MP3s in my underwear and smoking.

My whole thing is, I want to spend Christmas in a communist country. Last year I was in China and I’ve already been to Vietnam so Cuba’s basically the only game in town.

What I wouldn’t give to traipse down the dusty streets of Havana smoking cigars on the 25th of December and laughing like Ricky Ricardo. I heard it’s impossible to take a bad picture in Havana.

I guess I could go to North Korea but I’m worried I’d be wiped off the face of the Earth because George Bush had a bad day at the polls.

If I were to be vaporized in some type of military conflagration (i.e. nuked) I’d prefer it be in New York. That way my ghost could continue to take the ghost 6-train uptown through the smoking crater of Manhattan. Me and the other ghosts would complain when the train gets stuck in the tunnel before 51st Street.

Anyways getting to Cuba is a pain in my capitalist ass because I’d have to go through Canada, Mexico or Jamaica. Anyone with first-hand experience in this, please advise. No snakeheads please.

This morning I’m at work and on the phone with B-girl, seeing where we could get our schedules to line up to spend some time together. We’re both busy in general and the holidays are coming up so it took some doing. Both of us checking calendars and shuffling dates, it was like trying to hook up a timeshare in Aspen. A new sensation for me but I’m crazy about this girl and don’t mind fighting my way to the top of the Palm Pilot.

The latest: The live version of Willie Nelson singing “You Were Always On My Mind.” So simple, just a voice, a guitar and the romantic apologia of a tax cheat. If my voice wasn’t so annoying and nasally (think Woody Allen with a head cold) I’d stand under Businessgirl’s window and sing it to her. Oh wait a sec, I can’t play the guitar either. Ah dammit, I hate when fantasies require too much of a stretch.

Businessgirl recommended I download Norah Jones’ “Don’t Know Why.” I’m skeptical of most “popular” music but after I pulled the track down I was like, damn. The song is pretty killer but I wanted to ask Norah why she stood that poor bastard up. Wouldn’t kill you to call the guy and tell him you’re not coming, for chrissakes.

In the afternoon B-girl called me and told me she was coming, to meet up with me after work, surprise surprise. An unexpected glitch in the schedule. At five I clocked out and took the six downtown with a smile on my face.

Headphones on and picturing a double date: Me and Businessgirl, Willie Nelson and Norah Jones. We’re at a roadhouse in the midwest, a roofless black ’64 Cadillac parked outside. Burgers sizzling on the grill.

Norah heads to the bathroom to fix her convertible-swept hair while Willie goes to the jukebox to find some Patsy Cline. Me and B-girl start making out in the booth while the bartender chews gum and stares at nothing. Across the country, a six-train pulls into the Canal Street station. Someone gets a seat that would have otherwise been occupied by me.