I am inside a long metal box with wheels that is halfway between a trolley and a plane. I am somewhere past Providence, Rhode Island. Outside my window, the countryside is darker than sin; darting along, I catch glimpses of one-lane back-roads caught in the off-orange wash of a streetlamp older than I am. I am in transit, halfway between my two homes. Being separated from both for the moment, I feel I can step back and gain perspective, something Im always convinced I have in spades. But then something prompts me to look again; I rub my eyes and shake the cobwebs from my frontal lobe, and goddammit if I wasnt inestimably wrong. Im to be in this box, barreling past these streets, with nothing but three books, an excellent wi-fi connection, and my own thoughts for the next 11 hours. As this post shows, I have already begun my descent into brooding, hack-writing madness. Gods have mercy on my soul.
Posted on: Sun, 24 Nov 2013 03:42:34 +0000
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