everything's coming my way
In LA, Santa Monica. I have now taken a train from New York to Seattle, and from Seattle to LA.
And I could write a lot about it, I suppose, but what it all comes down to is the utterly quotidian, cliched observation that even so I never really understood until the last few weeks:
America is beautiful.
Really fucking beautiful. North Dakota, Montana, Washington, Oregon, California: jaw-dropping gorgeous. I saw the sun rising over cornfields in Indiana, and all I could think of was that song in Oklahoma, "Oh what a beautiful morning..."
Writing retreats don't get much better than that.
And I could write a lot about it, I suppose, but what it all comes down to is the utterly quotidian, cliched observation that even so I never really understood until the last few weeks:
America is beautiful.
Really fucking beautiful. North Dakota, Montana, Washington, Oregon, California: jaw-dropping gorgeous. I saw the sun rising over cornfields in Indiana, and all I could think of was that song in Oklahoma, "Oh what a beautiful morning..."
Writing retreats don't get much better than that.