waves away

For those who might be enjoying a trip back into the summer of 2001... September 3 I wake up slowly to the light seeping through the lace curtains, and recognize that this is the last mattress I will enjoy for many days. I linger, though the lace on the pillow scratches my cheek. Brian, always so cheery in the morning, is pointing the video camera at me.             "Ready for the big adventure?"             "Ten more minutes." I shoo him away, but the eerily quiet house compels me to rise and get ready. I linger more in the shower, aware that it will also be many days before I again enjoy a private bathroom. The hot water does its work, and despite the bite of the air conditioning when I exit, I dress appropriately for another day in the pitiless sun, stashing yesterday's sweaty clothes in the side pocket of the duffle bag.       As the rest...

Were you paying attention? I skipped April. I'm going to make up for it by posting twice in May. Here's the deal: Last May I had an autumn oak leaf inked onto my right calf -- a promise to myself to practice the grace of letting go. It's now time to let go of a story I've been writing, and rewriting, and just about mulching back into the ground, for over a decade. I don't think letting go is quite the same as giving up, though--once in a blue moon blogs become books in this network-of-platforms narrative age, right? In any event, the 61,000-word beast of a travel diary that has all but devoured my craft shall now be put to rest, a few segments a month, until a fresher story finds me. Let's hit the road...   Only a fool blames his bad vacation on the rain. Paul Theroux             When I get home from a trip I seem to have lost something. There used to be light seeping in from under the door, a promising glow of di...