It’s 1:30 a.m. PST. I’ve been up since 6:30 a.m. EST. I’m bordering on giddy with lack of proper brain functioning.

Today I flew JetBlue (pretty good, I watched cartoons, the World Tournament of Poker to learn more about Texas Hold’em, some TLC makeover show where there mean to a chick with bad clothes and make her shop, some news, and some cartoons with the sound off, while listening to music.)

I got to Cali, de-planed, grabbed my bag (one of the first off the carousel), got chauffered into the city by M. and minutes after de-carring in SF, saw a naked guy on a bike riding through a park. All of that happened before I even had coffee.

Why am I writing? How long can I go, sleepless and incoherent?