Everybody wants to have a home.
-- Springsteen (duh)
Long trip. Traditional first-US-post-Afghanistan meal at a McDonald's, traditional in the sense of 'fuck it, it's right here and it's quick.' Just as much a culinary war crime as I forgot to remember.
Malden, Mass, at 0-13 hours, after a four-plus-hour drive home in the rain from NYC in a rented Dodge with Kentucky plates and Emily snoring across the back seat; K took the wheel when I started seeing double-decker trains crossing I-89 in Connecticut, and swerving to miss them. Been awake since 0500 Amman time, which makes this, dunno, can't do physics, a big stretch of up across an assload of time zones. More writing when I'm not having what Uncle Jimmy used to call, from behind a tall 'Gansett can, 'hallicalusions' - seeing what isn't there, and seeing it double. Can't promise coherence; never could.
No comments:
Post a Comment