no doubt. the most Dam Fine weekend would be the one wherein one sits in a raggedy flannel nightgown at the end of it - with a glass of cheap red wine. the cat licking with relief at your presence. finally. with eyes near bleeding and bursting from the sights. with heart, mind and sensibilities cracked open. joyfully.

(drums in the park. birds fly away. trains clanking. dog-sized pigeons)

with no clean underwear for Monday morning. no soup frozen to take to the office for lunch (office?? huh??). carpet rather unclean. even sheets, my god. and unremembered dishes in the sink. only a vision of pale floating curtains from the deteriorated windowsills of an abandoned factory. candles somewhere. a plastic stackable chair on the dock. golden fish in the pond. a light laughing on the wind.

i have been to the city.

and it was good.