Then We’ll Twist Off Each Other’s Arms

Tonight I submitted 2,000+ words to Gapers Block for a feature that will run next week. Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up to darkness and fly to San Francisco. I’ll go to City Lights and buy a book. Then I’ll go across the street to Vesuvio, and have the first beer I’ve had since sometime in December. I’ll read my book and drink my beer. I don’t know yet what I’ll do with the rest of the day. But this part will be good. That much I’m sure of.

Then I’ll sleep. Or not. It really doesn’t matter. On Sunday I’ll walk out again to darkness. This time in Fisherman’s Wharf. I’ll walk down a quiet city street and catch a bus to Emeryville. From there I’ll ride the California Zephyr east through the Sierra Nevada and the Rocky Mountains. I’ll ride the full 51-hour route back to Chicago. I’ll listen to music. I’ll listen to some songs a lot. I’ll listen to “Rocky Mountain Time” over, and over again. I’ll stare into the day and out at the night. I’ll write. I’ll read from my new book, and from some old ones. I’ll sleep. Or not. It really doesn’t matter. I’ll drink another beer.

And when I get back, I’ll hold what escapes me now. Then I’ll throw it somewhere I can’t see. And then I’ll start again.

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