Well, family, dearest friends, it's the night before I embark by train upon the grandest adventure this century, or any other, has ever seen. I'm anxious, excited and eager. A little twitchy, but some freaks are twitchy and all twitchy freaks are twitchy freaks. It's like how cogs in a watch or a clock can be greased, just caked and filthy with grease, and still not turn smooth. Or smoothly would it be?

I'm so excited to listen to that Amy Sedaris book but I can't believe I was just exploring that same source of inquisition, ever since I found, fell in love with, and began my violent, aggressive adherence to Emily Post's Guide to Entertaining, by Elizabeth Post. I started self-injuring!

The book, Emily's not Amy's, struck me initially for its title and author. It seemed odd Elizabeth would change her name so slightly in the title of her very own informational memoir, but later or maybe just now, I'm thinking maybe she's actually just part of some kind of well-mannered dynasty, Emily being the first and namesake, and now all the daughters following suit one after after upon the other.

I want to order people with the same excruciating preciseness and specificity to behave in ways that I find for some undefined reason, utterly necessary. And relevent!

For example, Thailand, if you expect to be my guest for the next 20 days, I have a few stipulations. Unfortanately I cannot allow any children under the age of six to suck living fist-sized octopus babies down their throats in my presence.

Also, Thailand, you should know that I am probably not now and pretty definitely won't be all that interested in being sold or purchased into slavery, but I will happily be purchasing one or two slaves of my own. Specifically I'm interested in a couple of house boys to manage the chicken coop I'm building this year. They should be no older than 11 and with impossibly high-pitched, sing-song voices. "Just browsin', gennelmen, wokka wokka!"


More soon! Pictures and dances, and vegetables and paper masks!


Yours for one more day America,

Kanny