Today is my 40th birthday. I am not a very happy person. I woke up in a modern (crap) hotel room in New Jersey instead of some ancient palazzo in Venice Italy. I was supposed to be in Venice. Venice was promised to me twice now and each time it's magically removed from the equation. This last time Hugo suddenly got a show at Mana Contemporary so all the plans changed. Once again. And there was nothing I could do about any of it. I've been away from Mexico for over a week now, but I am still in a kind of cocoon. I haven't reached out to anyone or made any big plans. Being sick strips you of your ability to make plans. The biggest thing I did was buy tickets to see a Lingua Ignota concert in Manhattan on May 8th; a birthday present- to myself. It was a risk, but it was one I was willing to make. To see the best thing that has ever come out of Del f*ing Mar perform live has been the brightest part of my trip so far. While Hugo paints walls and advances his career,