some days you wake up and you just miss home. so you get out of bed and you do what you do, but everywhere you go you can’t help thinking things like, 

‘no one should be wearing flip-flops in february.’
‘i wish those palm trees were fartblossoms*.’
‘that guy looks homeless, but he’s probably just from venice.’
‘that girl’s boobs aren’t real.’

but just as you’re about to cash in all your virgin america miles and never return, a song comes on, and suddenly you’re having that most embarrassing of epiphanies - the pop song epiphany. in this particular case, you hear ‘washington, d.c.’ by the magnetic fields, and you realize that all you really miss from home are the people who love you, and that flips-flops, fake breasts and faux-hemians aside, there are lots of people who love you here, too, and that everything is probably going to be ok. see what i mean? lame. -d