Greetings from Istanbul! Ivan and I are doing a little sightseeing and drug smuggling to raise funds for our imminent return to NYC in a few weeks. If all goes well, we’ll get ourselves human-trafficked back to the states and have a day or two of indentured servitude before escaping, picking up his accordion from Manhattan MiniStorage, and hitting up the Frigid fest on February 20th. Commissioner Kelly has, no doubt, been overcome with debilitating sadness since we skipped town and hasn’t known what to do with himself – perhaps the simple joys of targeting cyclists and heckling occupiers has eased his boredom.
We’re looking forward to the clanging heat pipes and overwhelming smell of poo at Under St. Marks theater to make us feel right at home. (Home, for us, being the back alley of any speakeasy we find ourselves kicked out of on any given night.) I shall, however, miss the Turkish baths (unique, because I normally make it a rule to never bathe) and the sludgy coffee (which adequately feeds my methamphetamine addiction while away from my dealer). Ivan has spent his time stockpiling weapons from the Ottoman Empire (ie. raiding all the museums) and romancing the local herds of oxen.
One can only hope that our parole officers will have been thrown off our scent by postcards we had mailed to them from Fiji, though the good Commissioner always seems to pick up our trail after a few days. Maybe it’s the tell-tale rise of arson incidents and bank robberies. And STD cases. Who knows. All I can say is you are very lucky we are returning because there has no doubt been a dearth of good ragtime music and dirty jokes since we split. Have no fear! I’ll be getting my trumpet out of hock and picking up a new ukulele (ie. stealing one from some chick on Bedford Avenue) for Ivan as soon as we get back to town.
Love and Hate from abroad,
Click the image to buy tickets.