Last night’s Alberquerque-to-JFK flight wasn’t pure adulterated hell, but like all red-eye flights it was fairly miserable. Sitting in your seat and trying to sleep but unable to really sink to the bottom of the pond. The flight was only three and a half hours, and I guess I “slept”…oh, maybe 90 minutes or so. I finally couldn’t stand the fake-sleep purgatory and decided to just wake the hell up, and at that very moment I looked out the left-side window and there was sprawled-out, golden-glowing Philadelphia, which meant only another 20 or 25 minutes before freedom. Whenever I suffer through a particularly unhappy red-eye and want to feel a sense of relief or deliverance after landing at JFK, I get out the headphones and play “Our Prayer” from the Smile sessions.

I went straight to Jett’s apartment in Crown Heights, and then crashed on the couch for a little more than three hours.