Creepy, sleepy week: 4.20.05

Irvington, NY is the birthplace of Washington Irvington, creepy auteur extraoridnaire in that he penned one of the shiveryest tales of all time: The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow. I totally dig on the headless horseman and the nightime galloping over bridges, and most especially the way Disney portrayed the hapless Ichabod Crane.. so it's been hard to swallow that W.I.'s family home is named Sunnydale and that I am in Irvington in the midst of a springtime heatwave, which makes the place feel less like Halloweentown and more like Martha's-Vineyard-on-the-Hudson. Think superquaint and pishy poshy. But it is pretty, even without any sightings of the decapitated night jockey.

And no, I am not springing for an early summer vacay...as usual, I am in service of le job on my travels. This trip has brought me to a suitably creepy home for seriously emotionally disturbed kiddies set up in an old hospital from the 1930's. But I have spent an oddly happy few days there...listening to the youth running amok in the halls and reading seriously depressing case histories. No, I don't take pleasure in their misfortune, silly...it's just that it reminds me of my old jobbie and the totally satisfying feeling of working with PEOPLE. Unlike my present job where I work with a bunch of mindless, government-contracted drones. I gotta find a way back to that.