Saturday, July 16, 2011


The flight deplaning at the gate behind me is clearly from Hawaii. Everybody is tan, nobody alone, traveling in family groups wearing straw hats and tropical print shirt. They are carrying DOLE gift boxes, and wearing island mu-mus. Just my luck, this tropical breeze over my shoulder while the smell of decay wafts from my own gate, just a little ways down where there are no outlets available. Me and my dying battery.

It's not exactly despair I'm staring down, but it's something not unlike it, here... laid over... alone... for hours... traveling for reasons I hope to be convinced of. Right now, I expect the best I can make of this trip is to be alone in my hotel as often as possible.

Expect to hear from me.


asha said...

Yay! The Deconstructionist speaks! Looking forward to many delicious late night ramblings. Three months without a post is waaaaaaaaaay to long.

Don said...

Concur. Write publish write publish write publish. We are on your side, our backs likewise turned to former Edens that have been conquered by travel-industry imperialism, looking instead to gritty reality and the beauty your words always uncover there.

Roy said...

OH my god I think you're in the gate for Oklahoma City.


someone said...

Aren't conventions fun?


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