Getting the ticket, sweating on the prices, booking the place to sleep--
Regardless, I'll be away for long-- if anything because there really are a number of things that make me sick about going to New York the next spring (honestly they mainly refer to the part where I am actually going there, more than to the part where I am being there, which more or less I look forward to).

First of all, the sons of bitches will take my fingerprints and put them in their fucking database with the excuse of their moronic war on terror.
There was a time when such humiliating treatments were reserved for you if you were supposed a criminal: but not in this world anymore, No sir. How people don't see that this --other than being the training for slaves via humiliation that it is-- is a big favor to real criminals is beyond my imagination (not even going into the fact that only few months later and the son of bitches would feel entitled to monitor my credit card and my emails from the moment I get there);

Then the sons of bitches will ask a number of outrageously personal questions expecting an answer different from: "it's none of your fucking business where I'm going to stay, sir";

Then the sons of bitches won't tolerate any joke and any not concerned bored disturbed facial expression (or, for that matter, political T-shirts), chance being stupidly held for further vindicative questions;

Finally, with all their monitoring stuff, and their soulless public spaces, and their phony smiles the sons of bitches will generally make me resent the fact that I'm part of the present civilization (making me wanna have learned to sail so that I could sail away at sea and live on a boat around the oceans for the remains of my life);

...other parts of the going-there thing are scaring the shit out of me, but will be dealt with more normally, or heroically, like:
flying --I can't help it, I'm scared to fly. All the thrust and the noise and vibrations and energy involved make nervous, like waiting for a slap in the face when you know it's coming one--
reading in public --I never had problem with that, but I always worry to death anyway--
meeting people and behave --being one among the others and not by myself, behave naturally: this is going to be hard and unsuccessful--
being away from the loved ones --how the loved ones will be without me-- will Libi feel left alone, will love be ripped apart or will it survive-- will I feel too lonesome if it breaks apart? will Libi hate me anyway? I have two months to ward that off, but she seem to be so disturbed by it already--
the silence at early dawn and the green tea at my pc and the walks in the less known parts of the city --all the solitary habits I got attached to in the last two years--
Like a guy couldn't do without that for a while.

But all is going to turn out good, is it. I am not really able to believe that anything good can seriously come out of life (it's the spirit of our times, I guess), but still. I'm taking my worries so early I may be able to develop a sort of belief --that I can have courage and faith in the whole thing, phony and real as it comes and possibly helpful, etc.
And sorry for the aimless rant, which by the way ends right here.