Spent the weekend in DC, sleeping and eating peaches. Saw this Ginsberg photography exhibit at the National Gallery. Neal Cassady is so good-looking.
Finished The English Patient on the bus ride back. It's a romantic book about men who abandon women, and the women who pine for the men who abandon them. I'd like to see a man write a book, in which a woman has an objective other than to fill her empty heart with sex. I also finally got around to reading the article in New York magazine about how having children makes you less happy. More joy, less happiness.
I'm glad it's raining.