Sitting at the local Barnes and Noble with this book in hand and my silly Gonzo hat drew a little more than its fair share of unspoken attention, though I can't really decipher the body language around here as its expertly masked under layers of tristate area misanthropic grit apparent at least a little bit on every local person. My only inclination is to take it as a mixture of indignation and some flavor of jealous derision - "How dare this gypsy scalawag show up in our town, drink coffee, and wax free-spirited in our hardened and somewhat conceited presence!" Not all are like that, but there are enough. A category of "Generics" as the Phiz would say. Generics with Lead feet and attitudes.
[Handwritten cartoon of the scene upon coming down off the Delaware Memorial Bridge]
Little do they know I was born and once lived here. I need to go find Kristine.
Its good to be back.
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