Towards the end of the Widespread show at Radio City on Saturday night*, it occurred to me that I probably shouldn't have gotten so baked in advance of guest-editing Gawker for a week. This is obviously a coke-fueled operation; the last thing anyone needs is the peace-love-brownies crowd taking the helm. Well. Too late for that. Up at an impossibly early hour this morning, I saw quiet moments of bliss on the streets of the Lower East Side**: parents walking their children to school; traffic attendants weeping with joy that I was moving my car hours before the 9AM deadline for the first time, like, ever. The blueberry muffins were still warm at Sugar Sweet Sunshine. And so, with glad heart and those fond memories, we're sealing the doors to our own private Sistine Chapel and breaking out the blow. Keep in touch!

*Working on differentiators so my mom can tell my posts apart from Jessica's. "Healthy fondness for jam rock" seems like a reasonable starting point.
 ** Getting the hang of this?