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Gettysburg was okay. It was kind of shocking how unlike New York rural Pennsylvania is. Bad coffee, anti-abortion picketing, and naught but white people far as the eye can see. And I just can't get excited or moved by battles, no matter how huge and horrifying and important they were. I know I should feel something more about the Civil War, but I feel the same way about all wars, old and new, and that is: depressed.

Also, I forgot my camera, but even if I hadn't, there's no way to get them online with my computer busted, so all you get are two camera-phone shots: this Gorey-esque sign for one of the numerous ghost-story experiences that these sorts of historical tourist-centred towns have to offer, and the first of the five billion monuments on the battlefield. I'm sorry to say I don't remember anything about the latter except it was put up by an old president in the early part of the last century and it has an eternal flame.

I did get some delicious sugar-free fudge at some farmer's market in Amish country, so that was nice. And a woman in a pet store let me go into the window and cuddle the kittens for as long as I wanted. That was my favourite part of the weekend.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:40 PM | shower me with attention