Sara/Saradactyl/TriSaraPops (I haven't seen you in hours)

That night we stuffed ourselves on sweet potato fries and ice cream our stomachs sang choruses all night with the crickets outside your bedroom window.

In life news, three weeks of travel is rather enough. I'm thinking about settling down in St. Louis with the girlfriend for at least a few months. Not my first choice (hallo Austin! hallo Denver!). As long as I've got Keyan Still to make me whiskey cocktails, it'll be fine.

HERE, EACH ZERO IS A CAPITAL "OH!"

Today, I stepped on the tail of my girlfriend's cat. He did not cry. He did not seem to mind. He listened to the rain outside and, when he was ready to talk, purred out the morning's feelings. With that, he seemed well-satisfied.

Genesis of a sentence:
I used to say that good days start with me already awake minutes before my alarm, but I have not attempted an all-nighter since I drove through Nebraska and my alarm is still set for 3:OOPM from my Texas writing schedule. The first sentence of my new short story: "Good days start with James already awake when his alarm goes off, downstairs and cooking breakfast by 3:OOPM."

As you can see, it is hard to write from St. Peters, Missouri. The suburbs have always made me profoundly uncomfortable.

Checking in from the road

I hit the road with two of my best men.

It's 2:30 in Wyoming, which is gorgeous and expansive like an ocean. I'm on my back in the backseat Of Nicky's vintage Benz ("Betsy Lou") listening to a great song on a day filled with great songs. The scale of this state amazes me-off in the distance, mountains seem both towering overhead and still farther from us than the moon. In the face of such vastness we are drawn inexorably to quiet soul-searching and loud, American rock music.

There are ways of thinking that only work in the "Wyoming" space.

One day, I'm going to come back here to die.