this way to woodstock. i think maybe i need to move there if i’m going to do some of this book in cafes, which are key once reporting and drafting is done. cafes are where i go to get out of the house and do my do. after say six or seven chapters in the can, i can write anywhere (in other words, in my apartment, with the laptop in front of the TV, propped up by magazines) but that tricky process of reaching cruising altitude, i have to break out. ten pages today. you would think that because i live in greenwich village i would have an array of great cafes to write in but i have nitpicked every single one of them. i’m freakin’ goldilocks on that shit. one is claustrophobic, the other has shitty wi fi, the third played candlebox. i once interviewed candlebox at spin. i guess that dates me. what doesn’t date me these days? i think it’s a matter of settling. i have one that i hate BUT i manage to write in which is where you will find me more often than not but i don’t like it. in fact the greatest feeling in the world is leaving it… with ten finished pages. that could be the key. not what cafe will provide a nice atmosphere, play great music, have great coffee and fast wi-fi, but which cafe is so horrid that i can’t wait to write what i have to write and leave.