But for now, I’ll stick to saying how I’m disappointed, though not surprised, to hear that Tarsem’s latest film “Immortals” is an awful mess…

Here’s everything you need to know about Immortals, the new movie from director Tarsam Singh [sic] that’s (extremely) loosely based on Thesus [sic, again], the hero from Greek mythology: At one point, Zeus gets super mad at Apollo for interfering with the humans, so he blasts him through a stone wall. It’s built up as this huge moment for Zeus that shows how dedicated he is to allowing mankind to forge its own destiny rather than be shepherded by the gods, and clearly meant to be a big, pivotal moment for the film.

And then we see that the blast has left a perfectly Apollo-shaped hole in the rock as if he were a Looney Tunes Character. That’s Immortals in a nutshell.

(From the Comics Alliance review)

For the record, I love Tarsem’s The Fall. It’s a gorgeous, heartfelt piece of cinema that few other movies can match. I’m told that he had absolute control over every aspect of that film, from script to final cut . . . which might explain a lot.

I’d been planning on going to see “Immortals” in the theaters — a bit of a luxury these days, with a young toddler at home — based on the subject matter and Tarsem’s involvement.

Not anymore. I’ll probably be happier staying at home and watching episodes from the excellent Clash of the Gods or Jim Henson’s The Storyteller series instead.

I should say that my process is a little bit different than usual right now. It’s NaNoWriMo, so I’m working on a smaller project and trying to make better use of the available technologies in order to get it done within the deadline.

Last year, I managed to finish two novellas, one of which — a small follow up to Assam & Darjeeling called “The Cradle” — will be out by Christmas (yes, I’m running late).

All my work last year was done on my iPad, using Evernote — which worked very well for my purposes.

This year, however, I decided to finally find a way to make the Scribe software work for me. I’ve had Scribe for a year and, despite my best efforts, I’ve had trouble finding the right headset to capture my vague ramblings during my two hour commute.

(And, before you send me your suggestions, I should mention that I’ve gone through at least seven different Bluetooth and wired solutions.)

For a while, I gave up ever making it work. Which was a shame, because that almost two hours of driving time was a real opportunity to be productive.

But I decided to give it one more shot this year for NaNoWriMo . . . and after a number of false starts, I eventually found this microphone/headset on Amazon which seemed to do the trick. Quite nicely, in fact.

What this means is that my NaNoWriMo project this year is being created almost entirely through the spoken word, rather than typing or writing.

A bit of a risk, I’ll admit. but I’ve always trusted my voice. When I find myself at a brick wall, a good session of walking and talking to myself will usually help get things back on track.

And so far, it’s been working fairly well. I’m well past the target word count set for this point and certainly on track to pass the 50,000 word mark. Given my current progress — I’m just over 30,000 words — I expect to hit the goal well ahead of the end of the month.

I don’t know if I’ll be done with the first draft by then, but this is a story that’s been percolating for a long time in the back of my head and without NaNoWriMo it probably would’ve been a few years at least before I ever got around to writing it. So that’s okay.

So far, so good. The microphone does a good job of filtering out the ambient noise of the car and the scribe software is fairly good at transcribing the recordings. However, from time to time, Scribe misfires and I end up with some interesting translations. The software allows you go in and correct things so that, in time, it learns your speech patterns and quirks of pronunciation.

I like technology that learns from me. I like the organic, almost Darwinian nature of it.

Tonight, however, for some reason, it choked. Utterly.

I’d been working for an hour or so — which means that I was walking around in my office, talking to myself.

As midnight approached, I stopped to import my work so far into the Scribe software. It’s an easy process and pretty routine at this point. Typically I just let it run and then cut-and-paste the results into Scrivener or Evernote so I can make any corrections I want to after the fact. And, of course, I save the audio source for reference, just in case I need them later.

Tonight I decided to peek in on what Scribe was doing . . . and what I saw surprised me.

Here’s the first paragraph that appeared onscreen as the transcription began…

of will when you are is a work in a law of the earth to all and to the are you is your own or a to her to a window or in a will of her and her is you will is a will to the are you a to the eye to her or her own go as long as you would go her as a dove or a will or is it the night to will her a long one of her of her to her or he will or will your are off to a good or a well-known and her mother are you at a that I know what you are in a third or a to God or all around with the new and will do a good is a very who will or is it a world in her of her and her are her murder or is it moral or, as you are are are are are are are are are are are are are are are those your review of it that are or I will tell you is or is is a to you or your

Not exactly what I’d been working on the night, you’ll have to take my word for it. So, figuring there was some kind of glitch, I thought I might try again.

Here’s what the second attempt produced…

Him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him and you are past or will we will work for you guys are the is will go to that are all well and good to her from her to a will or will on the other are you going to do well in a will will give you a will go to her for her or him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him both were her mother nude to him and him or him him him him him

Whoever he is, he needs to get the hell out of my software. And stay away from my mom.

Erm . . . third time’s a charm, right?

Him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him or check test test him and we will when it is a work to be a guy that I was a law will be a very good after my workout how you and I are in a to them as a children are a will to a to her and her window to in a little over five and a will to him or her off to a good or a to him on a how are you and I are in a perfect or are you a thing or to a guy a noble or to her as a loan to her role as a little boy all her weight is a to her or him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a note and he is in a will or will not kill him will be a little under a something of a month or and he had a to below are her to go to her idol John Gartner for her or him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him or him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a moment when he is a phone number is to have a go… away you are or know him as a by a return to him and him in a to him in a all-around with a view to him and him to do your will for him him him him him him or him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him or him him him him him him him him him or him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him and he will him and him and him or her to a girl named veteran Aaron and how to murder your him and he won’t, and then you are doing will love him or him him him him him him

There’s something a little creepy about all that, actually.

I don’t particularly like losing work. It’s been a long time since I’ve ever “lost” anything I was working on. In fact, it’s been over a decade.

On this project, losing an hour’s worth of time isn’t the end of the world. I’ve got a good sense for where I’m at in the story and what I’m doing. There’s always the audio to go back to, if I need to transcribe something manually. And it’s turned out that this story has a lot more autobiographical elements in it than usual, so the memories I’m drawing on are fairly easy to draw out once again if I need to.

And, to be honest, in these kinds of circumstances I have a tendency to trust the process, to trust the gods.

Everything happens for a reason. If I have to rewrite something, it’s probably because something important was lost the first time through . . . and this is my chance to get it back again.

It is worth noting however that tonight I was talking about one of the first, and only, times I ever attempted an EVP session.

I’m writing about ghosts. I’m writing about technology.

And, for some reason, tonight it turns out that technology is something that — inexplicably — isn’t working for me.

Creepy.

Shrug. It happens.

“So when the empty jug was full again
after the wine was poured,
and when the loaf, sliced and shared,
lay whole on the board once more,
the old couple knew their guests
and their gods knew them.”

Business trips, end of the year client deadlines, visits from grandparents, and the general craziness of life itself . . . and suddenly I want to go to bed at 9PM every night.

Sometimes, that’s exactly what I did.

Which is why I’ve been so quiet here and on Twitter and elsewhere.

Fortunately, things have calmed down a bit now. December is still hectic and busy . . . but I think I’ll make it from here on out.

Tea with Winterly
Woke up with Sophie this morning and came downstairs to find the air outside filling up with snow. Apart from a storm a few week’s back, we haven’t gotten very much this season. Yet.

But my baby daughter looked out at the whirling air and held out her hands, trying to touch the fat flakes as they drifted past the window. Later, we put out seeds and nuts for the squirrels.

The Winter Solstice is near. This is my favorite time of year, for so many reasons — not the least of which is how beautiful the world outside becomes. To me, there’s nothing lovelier than the face of Winter.

The squirrels got their treats today. And you might want to check back in here around teatime on December 21st. Winterly might have some more things to share in celebration of the solstice.

Just saying.

Filed Under “Yay.”
Good news last week. Matters of Mortology won the “Frightening Fiction” award at BookRix, after having been nominated as a wildcard along with the other finalists.

Most everyone said nice things, which made me very happy and grateful. And the judges were especially kind, both with their praise and their criticism.

You can read some of the community comments here. And, of course, you can get a copy of the book for your very own if you are so inclined.

Winning vs. “Winning”
Despite a few points where my word count seriously flatlined, I managed to complete my first NaNoWriMo.

What I enjoyed most (apart from the writing) was the friend connection, writing along with everyone else. It made me miss my old writer’s group a little bit.

I don’t know that it’s accurate or fair to say I “won” NaNoWriMo but I finished the two projects that I’d wanted to get done and made the 50k wordcount with a little bit of time to spare.

One project was an adaptation of my play The Red Boy. The other project was a push to finish a new short-ish story called The Cradle. That’s the one that’s got Jee in it, in case you were wondering.

So, I’m a little bit of a cheaterpants for the adaptation. Maybe next year I’ll start something from scratch.

They said it couldn’t be done, but…
…approximately ninety percent of my NaNoWriMo efforts were done on the iPad. About half the time, I used a wireless keyboard. But I also made good use of the onscreen keyboard as well. At no point was this a problem or impediment for me — if anything, it dramatically improved my ability to work. Anywhere.

And after a lot of trial and error with different software and methods for synchronizing, I decided Evernote was the only way to get a reliable sync between various devices (computer, iPhone, iPad). Although Scrivener is my preferred writing environment, the lack of an iPad version was a problem. And seeing data loss when I tested Dropbox as a hub for SimpleNote, I said phooey and went ahead with Evernote — which is probably what I should have done in the first place.

I still prefer Scrivener, though. Everything’s tucked safely away in there now, waiting for rewrites in January/February.

There’s been a lot of debate recently about whether or not the iPad is a consumption or creation device. From my perspective, both sides of that argument seem to be missing the point.

It’s both.

At least, mine is. Your results may vary. I tend to want to write no matter what I have to work with. I’ve been known to resort to post — it’s and the backs of business cards, when nothing else was at hand. One of the first sequences in Pantheon was written in crayon on a paper menu (and I’ll thank you to keep your smart-alec comments until after you’ve read it).

Just saying, you can write anywhere, with anything, if you’ve the mind to.

Coming Soon
Speaking of consumption, December is an Aurohn month — which is to say, a lot of my time will be spent getting things ready to be published.

At the top of the list is getting the 10th anniversary edition of Samantha Dunn’s Not by Accident ready for printing. As this is the first non-me book to come out from Aurohn Press, it’s pretty darn exciting. And Dunn’s memoir is outstanding. That she trusted us to bring it back into print is a genuine honor.

Time permitting, the iBook edition of Matters of Mortology will finally arrive as well. A lot of people have been asking for this one, so expect some special introductory pricing as a reward for your patience.

And I’m also laying the groundwork for both Assam & Darjeeling and Matters of Mortology to appear on a few other platforms like the Nook, Google Books, and more.

Stay tuned, more details to come.

The Cradle will Rock
When my daughter Julia found out that there was another Jee story in the works, she did her best to try and convince me it would be okay to let her read the first draft. I assured her that it wasn’t. My first drafts are pretty rough sometimes, and this one is no exception.

(I should say, this is not a sequel to Assam & Darjeeling by any stretch. It’s just that I know there’s more going on with Jee. And I want to tell those stories. This one has goats, for instance. And a lot of rain.)

That being said, I’m very happy with the story overall. It worked out pretty well and I’m looking forward to cleaning it up once it’s had a chance to hang and cure for a while. Not quite sure how I’ll share it with everyone once it’s finished. It’s definitely one I’m looking forward to reading aloud, so you can plan on it showing up in iTunes as either an addendum to the book or an episode of The Gospel of Thomas.

Speaking of which…
…I discovered this weekend that my Halloween episode got lost in the aether, apparently never showing up on iTunes or in the RSS feed. It’ll be fixed this weekend. And there’s a new one coming next week for the holidays — a sneak peek at a few pages from Pantheon, just to apologize for the technical problems.

From the Mailbag
This came in last week…

“My mother died very unexpectedly about three years ago. . . . Shortly after her death, I came across the Assam and Darjeeling podcast. At first I thought I was morbid for enjoying it so much, but as I listened I realized I was slowly working though saying good-bye to my mom. I have no idea how or why it happened, I’m just glad it did. When I think of where my mom is… what she’s doing… how she’s feeling… I almost always think of you and your book…”

Well. There’s no way to feel about that, except humble and grateful. And I am.

And finally…
Since it went on sale earlier this year, Assam & Darjeeling has sold about 145 copies (hardcover, softcover, and Kindle combined). While that’s not a staggering amount of books sold, over 3,000 people have downloaded the free PDF. As near as I can tell, the free audiobook version has seen about 24,000 downloads from all over the world (that’s a jump of ten thousand in the past month or so).

Lots of these people have written to me, to let me know what they thought of the book. Which pretty much makes my day, every single time.

I write for a lot of different reasons but, well, that e-mail from last week is about the best thing I could ever hope to do with one of my books.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. In the span of about a week, someone very kindly nominated Matters of Mortology for an award (and it won), someone wrote me the e-mail you see above, and someone else called me an amateur.

I don’t know that I’m a particularly masterful writer, in terms of using the language or doing particularly good things with the words themselves. I have a lot of quirks and idiosyncrasies, I wander down tangents and overwrite everything to death, I don’t follow a lot of the accepted rules of grammar or vocabulary (chiefly because I’m rather ignorant of most of them).

If I do manage to put the right words together in the right way once in a great while, it’s just dumb luck or the gods lending a hand. Hard, long effort can sometimes nudge a few of them into the right place as well.

What I hope is that, underneath it all, there’s something there. An idea, a character, an energy that might resonate with someone. I take it on faith that this will happen from time to time — if I am lucky, if I work very hard, if the gods are kind.

It’s coming up on the year’s end. This has been a good one for me and mine — we end it weighed down with unexpected kindness and undeserved generosity.

Like I said, humble and grateful.

The past few weeks have been extremely busy. I’ve had to set aside almost all other writing and editing projects (yes, The Spring Chap being one of them — all apologies to those of you who are waiting patiently) in order to finish up a number of things for a . . . well, I’m not sure what to call it, really. All I know at this point, all I can say is that one of my books has gotten some attention from an unexpected area. Conversations with very nice people are ongoing. At times it’s quite exciting. At other times I cannot help but think of il gatto e la volpe.

This is the sort of thing that keeps me up at night, pacing and talking to myself. Rest assured that when things solidify a bit, one way or another, I’ll have more to say about it here.

With all of that going on, it was nice to take some time out this past weekend for a visit to Aurohn Lake. I brought along the copy of Burrough’s A Princess of Mars that I’d gotten for Ken. I’ll be reading it at the same time he will be, although he’s read it before — the first time was back when he was a boy, sometime around the 1920′s. I’m hopeful that we’ll have some interesting conversations afterwards. And then it’ll be his turn to pick a book for us to read.

I’ve already got one of his (unpublished) novels waiting on my nightstand. Pinnacle is a fictionalized account of his work on the groundbreaking car commercial for Chevrolet that first put an automobile on top of a remote mountaintop in the middle of the desert. It’s a pretty commonplace image now in advertising, but Ken did it first back in 1964, and without computers. I’m interested to read the book . . . but I’m looking forward to exploring Mars with him as well.

While we were out there, Keeley, Jeff (her father), and I took a nice long walk around the lake, through the forest, across the meadow, and back again. It started with a liberation of the last few milkweed pods. Across the lake, we spied a trespassing ATV that took off at the first sight of us, which gave us all something to grumble about. But the trespasser was quickly forgotten as we saw a few deer early on — a brief flash of the tail, the bounding into the thicker trees — and a surprisingly non-nocturnal possum that trundled as fast as it could away from us through the underbrush.

Last time we came through the forest a few weeks back, it was bitter cold and the little ponds were frozen solid. This time, however, the warm weather had broken things down considerably and was performing the alchemy of spring that invariably turns everything into mud.

In the distance, perhaps outside the boundaries of the Aurohn conservancy, we could hear gunfire. Far off through the trees, we could just barely make out the edge of a lake on the neighboring property. About the time the gunshots started ringing out — it’s nowhere near hunting season, by the way — we watched a herd of eight or nine deer plunge into the frigid water and then scramble up onto the ice to make their escape — their hoofbeats breaking through here and there as they drummed across the surface.

One of the deer floundered for a while in the icy water and it was breathtaking, excruciating to be unable to do anything but watch. To our relief, they finally made it up and across the ice after their herd.

The gunshots continued. I don’t have a fond place in my heart for hunters, particularly not out of season poachers. Fortunately, my phone has excellent coverage out there in the middle of nowhere and I was able to put a call back to Ken’s and let them know.

This could also serve as my last communication, I thought to myself, before the tragedy struck.

There’s a hill just past Five Bar Gate where the forest ends and the back forty takes over. Just under the crown of the hill is a large hole leading down into a burrow. On top of the hill, the tall grass is matted down where the deer sleep. It’s the perfect spot: sheltered by trees on two sides, high enough to see predators coming, accessible enough to allow escape into deep cover.

Last time we were out, Keeley and I left apples there and I was happy to see that they were all gone. All through the forest and on the crown of the hill, we scattered the new batch of apples and carrots that we’d brought along this time. I’ve been reading A Field Guide to Demons — which isn’t really about demons so much, at least not in the pea soup sense — and I suppose some might say we were leaving offerings for the local gods. In truth, I just wanted to give the deer and the unseen burrow dweller (groundhog perhaps?) a nice treat after the long winter.

I like that little hill. I’d like to have a small, one room cabin up there with windows on all sides. All I need is a wood burning stove for warmth and tea, and a table and chair. I’d go there to write every day, if I could — and if it wouldn’t disturb the deer or the underhill god (groundhog, woodchuck . . . whoever it might be). That would be a good life. I’m surprised Ken never did something similar but, of course, he did. It’s why they moved there in the first place.

In the meadow beyond, the heavy snowfall and high winds of winter had flattened out most of the tall grass, so Jeff and I went down to the far edge of the lake to see what the ATV might have been up to. We also wanted to check and see if anyone had set out traps for the rumored-but-as-yet-unseen beavers (and, of course, spring them as a part of our subversive community service). No traps, fortunately. But no beavers either.

From there, it’s an easy walk back. When we got there, Ken’s wife Alice was on the phone checking on the provenance of the ATV and the gunfire. The collection of discarded beer cans we found along the way didn’t make them any more pleased about the trespassers.

But they were quite interested in the various books I’ve got on my iPhone. In addition to the excellent Classics application from the iTunes App store, I also had the Kindle application installed with my recent purchase of the Burrough’s book.

Scoffing at first, it didn’t take Ken long to get the hang of using the app to read. But he said what everybody else seems to say about the Kindle: “Well, it’ll never replace the pleasure of reading from a real book you’re holding in your hands.” I can’t say I disagree with them. Alice used to be a librarian and, watching her play with the iPhone, I had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t have minded having one of her own.

But I was most interested to hear, a week or so ago, that the Kindle store had opened up to direct submissions from authors. Having spent some time playing with the formatting and preparation of a document for that platform, I’m fairly confident that it’ll be one of many avenues by which I put my work out there in the next few months. Unless, of course, the cat and the fox come through.

The evening ended up with a stop off with Keeley’s parents for a nice big barbeque dinner on the way home, washed down with tose overgrown “tall” über pints of beer that everyone seems to be serving these days. All of which only made it that much easier to go home, snuggle up with my wife, and fall asleep well before 10 o’clock.

I woke at 3AM, wide awake and had some difficulty convincing my mind that we didn’t need to go downstairs and have one-sided debates about titles and audience age demographics. Eventually, I won out and fell back asleep in time to be completely late getting up for work the next morning.

A cot would be nice in that cabin too, now that I think of it.

————————————————————-

I have about fifty different tabs open in Firefox, seriously straining the patience and functionality of that application. Here’s my attempt to close a few of them…

It was the twittered birth of Roadhacker and Dirty Snowflake’s baby Maeve that led to the discovery that I am, according to the Mayan astrological system, a White Magnetic Dog. So that’s all right, then.

If I ever get a little cabin somewhere, I’ll almost certainly need a shelf for this. At least, unless I win one of these someday. If so, then I’ll pick up the idol from the HPLHS’s excellent adaptation of Call of Cthulhu instead.



And while we’re on the subject of Things I Want Someday, a few of these plushie skulls from Lana Crooks would look good on that shelf too. And they might also be great decor for a baby’s room as well. Or maybe we can just hire this fellow. Excellent stuff, but I do have to admit that these pillows might be taking it a little bit too far — at least, in a baby’s room.




And in case you missed it the first time, two of my online friends had a baby and twittered the whole thing. When I told my wife about it, she said “No electronic device of any kind will be anywhere near a birthing room, right?”

As with my vague non-news report above, I thought it best to adopt a neutral position in response. For now.

It wasn’t all food poisoning and friends, either. I acquitted myself admirably by clearing a number of logs and muck that were clogging the runoff grate on the dam. A close inspection of the debris showed telltale teeth marks. Looks like the rumors are true: There are now beaver living in the lake.

Out in California, most of the rest of them are gathering for a week in Santa Cruz. I might still be able to make it, if the lottery gods finally pony up. Otherwise, I’ll have to lump it here in the Midwest.

The third book (working title to follow just as soon as I make up something clever) is coming along in little nudges. I don’t have a good read on how long it’s going to take me to get it to the end of the first draft but I think I can see the end way, way, way out there if I squint and shade my eyes.

End of the year, let’s say that for now. I reserve the right to completely blow past my own deadline, should the need arise.

Speaking of gods, there are a couple of t-shirts from WearScience.com that are just cool enough to make me wish I’d seen them before my birthday. I especially like this one and this one.

But this one, is nigh unto irresistible.

Other flotsam and jetsam…

I’d like to believe that I would create animated films like this one if I had any kind of graphic talent at all. As such, I’ll have to content myself with words alone.

Speaking of which, I’m delighted to report that my story Summer Salt will be featured in an upcoming episode of the Cthulhu Podcast. Yay.

Also, I expect to have the delayed Other Super Secret Podcast will get pushed out there as well. Possibly.

No words from agents and publishers. With respect to that nice fellow over there, I’m already writing the next thing. It’s all I can do, really.

Really.

“We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.”
– Anais Nin

Been back home for a week or so — well, going on two weeks now — and I’ve been following up with the handful of contacts, leads, and introductions I made while at the BookExpo America.

Apart from some good connections, the only other notable thing to come out of the trip was that I started writing the next project, my third novel. If you’ve been following me on Twitter, you might have noticed more references to gods than usual. You might as well settle in and get used to it, because that’s what the new project is about.

It’s a bit of a shift, really. I’d had another project planned and plotted, ready to start writing . . . but it just wasn’t there yet. Anything I did felt forced somehow. After a few weeks of working but not feeling it, I decided to set it aside and let my subconscious work on it a bit more.

It wasn’t the project’s fault. There was something off in me and I just couldn’t get in the right position to flip the switch.

If the other project felt forced and difficult, digging out our old notes and sketches was like coming home . . . and I’ve already slid into the work with a sigh of relief.

Who knows, maybe in a few years I’ll come back to the other project and find it’s right there, ready to go.

The second project — the new project, the god project — was one from five years ago that was originally meant to be a collaboration with the excellent Keeley Geary (now my most excellent wife). Although she’s graciously relinquished the story and characters into my hands, I expect she’ll still be involved in the plotting and development process — if for no other reason than I’ll keep asking her annoying questions and trying out ideas on her.

LaDawn Driscoll (a new Twitter friend) recently twittered the quote from Anais Nin above, which serves as a perfect compliment to this one from Homer’s The Odyssey: “For the gods are never strangers when they meet…”

Taken together, Homer and Nin do a pretty good job of summing up where Keeley and I started with this new story, way back when.

I’m not in a position to say much more about the new project just yet, but suffice it to say that I’ve got a lot of writing ahead of me.

And I’m looking forward to it.

My connection is through Detroit and then Memphis (and perhaps Anchorage for all I know). I’m taking the long way ’round to get to Los Angeles with no time for anything more than a mad dash to catch my connecting flights.

The woman sitting next to me in the lounge sustains a sotto voce, one sided conversation with her teen son, undaunted by his apparent and utter lack of interest in everything she is telling him. I can’t say I blame him. He’s got a fine future ahead of him, enduring the same through what I imagine will be a succession of wives undistinguishable from each other by anything other than their waist size — a infinite regression of demanding Russian nesting dolls enjoying their own disappointment too much to think of his.

No idea how my mood got so sour, so early in the day. I usually love to travel alone, keeping my eye peeled for incognito gods on the move.

But this is only Grand Rapids. There are no gods here.

But I’ve got high hopes for Memphis.