Updating this post on Sunday. Went to an extraordinary concert last night, more on that later. As yet unable to bring myself to remove the beard I grew in the woods. Here it is earlier this week. Here it is now. I put those as links so you don't have to look at my face if you don't want to.
Scott Heim, who wrote Mysterious Skin, made a trailer for his new book, We Disappear. It comes out soon--I want to read it.
dead heats: gallup rasmussen cnn/zogby summary
for god's sake, vote obama
I went to AWP this morning in New York to hang out with Kelly and Ann of Boundoff. I enjoyed it quite a bit, despite being tired from last night. Many people/groups were there. Small Beer Press, Dzanc, n+1 (by which I'm increasingly impressed), McSweeneys, Melville House, Hobart, every major publisher, something called Buckbee, Ghost Road, every literary journal in the world.
And I got some playing cards that are Magic for Beginners-themed:
I waited at an airport yesterday from 1:30 to 9:00. Boarded the flight around 7 but it didn't take off for two hours. I was seated in the middle of the plane and at one point I got up to go to the bathroom, but when I reached the back of the plane it smelled awful, so I returned to my seat. The whole back of the plane smelled awful, and there was a group of wretched-looking Slavs seated back there. I was so worn down and out of it that the thought of this kept returning to me, making me laugh out loud, spontaneously, even though I knew it wasn't funny. Whenever anyone from the front of the plane went back and actually used the bathroom, they'd hurry out so quickly they'd forget to close the door, and you'd hear some piteous yet musical, almost tearful Eastern European voice cry, "Sir!? Please! Close de door!"
My last days at the house in the woods were good ones. On the morning I left, I woke up and the woods were covered in ice. Every branch, every twig.
I wrote a lot while I was there, especially at the beginning and the end. I hiked every day. And now I'm back. No more donkeys.