the airports of my life
I write you from LAX, where my flight has been delayed. I was overcome by chargeaphobia, the fear that my phone and Kindle and laptop would run out of electricity, so I paid to use the lounge. Today's airports: where you have to get out your wallet in order to sit down comfortably. (I also made a panicked purchase of magazines, in case of disaster.)
I am between jobs, between cities, between writing choices. But this week, there will be blogging. Among the wordage thrown at you, prepare for a long, three-post essay -- not about writing, though you know there will be those at some point. It's a manifesto of sorts.
Meanwhile, I give thanks that I found the lounge. Life without wifi is something I prefer not to contemplate.
I am between jobs, between cities, between writing choices. But this week, there will be blogging. Among the wordage thrown at you, prepare for a long, three-post essay -- not about writing, though you know there will be those at some point. It's a manifesto of sorts.
Meanwhile, I give thanks that I found the lounge. Life without wifi is something I prefer not to contemplate.