Dear Dirty D,

So last night my friend bob dobolina and I had an impromptu southern fest in his tiny studio appartment. we had rumpleminze,ice-picks (sweet tea and vodka) and I downloaded Project Pat as well as other Southern hip-hop greats (;-he was mortified.

As a "feminist" (which I have never claimed to be), I should hate PP and any other rap that is of that ilk. "Slob on my Nob" put him over. He thinks I need to be deprogrammed.

I wish I could have the good of all the places I have visited, in one place. The only space where they practically co-exist is in my memories. Travel has filled me with plot lines and characters that I wish could cross pathes.

Right now,in my mind,you are sitting with Raffaella at a small gelateria in the Southern Calabrian beach town of Tropea. The sand is so white,and with the sun reflecting off it -the beach appears on fire. As the afternoon progresses, you trade gelato for aperitivi and the sun spills on the water and swallows the whole village...

wouldn't it be nice? If we could have what is in our hearts-that sweetness that the mind always seems to overpower or make trite? To have our friends and families (real or adopted) together-even if just for a day?

The more I travel, the more I love, the more fragments I am unable to reconcile.

I guess that is why they are "growing pains".

ps...If I could pick only one memory from Memphis to keep with me, it would probably be drunk dancing with you outside Lorenz's house. Mike Britton was there and it was "Throw Ya Hands up"...I don't have all the details,I can't remember what happened before or after, just that moment, mercury marquis door open, booty shaking in the street...that euphoric feeling of being new to memphis and being fearless. Betcha don't remember,huh?

mg