Heat and Brightness

A 3:45 AM start to the day if I'm not counting the reflexive, once-every-hour time checks. It's hard not to be wary of the early morning clarity, as I have to give a reading later tonight, and I don't want the storehouse to deplete itself. I'm on the way to Austin right now, high up above Kentucky, where the plane I'm on has all of thirty people on board, and, for whatever reason, no gd snack boxes left--thank you Continental Airlines. But the good thing is that I'll be met at the airport by my dear Elizabeth McCracken in just a few hours now. Heat and brightness are just starting to seem real. First there is work to do: a visit to Elizabeth's memoir class this afternoon, then a reading at UT Austin tonight. (Here's a smart profile by Madeleine Crum.) And then the fun: hanging out with Elizabeth's husband, Edward, their son, Gus, whom I haven't seen since he was all of a year or so old, and his sister Matilda, whom I haven't yet met. And maybe, if there's time, bats and bars and music. But before any more about Austin, I wanted to pass on these final pictures of last week's stay in Provincetown before they passed completely out of memory and beyond. These are for Elizabeth, who knows these sights as well as I.

[The above, I should say, was written yesterday. I meant to post it last night, but was so tired at dinner, after the reading, which turned out to be a huge pleasure, that I apparently started speaking gibberish--dream speech, Elizabeth called it. And I'd only had one glass of wine! More about that soon.]