Travelogue

SUNDAY
The Plan: Depart LAX at 4:50 pm, land in Missoula, MT at 8:20 pm, meet the missus at the airport, meet, greet and crash at the residence of her Aunt Nina.
What Actually Happened: Delayed in LAX four extra hours, tossed an insufficient meal voucher for $8, eat the world's most disproportionately expensive cheese pizza, dawdle on the tarmac for forty-five minutes, land in Missoula at 12:50 am, meet the missus at the airport, crash at the cat-piss smelling residence of her Aunt Nina.

MONDAY 
The Plan: Depart Missoula by car at 8:00 am, drive through the majority of Montana, a portion of Idaho and a small portion of Utah, stop for Subway lunch someplace, check into La Quinta in Orem, Utah by 5:00 pm, chill the fuck out.
What Actually Happened: Depart Missoula by car at 10:30 am, eat an extra nutritious breakfast of nachos at the local Sinclair station, drive through the majority of Montana and a portion of Idaho, devour a meatball sandwich from Subway in Idaho Falls, drive through a small portion of Utah, read some juicy new Scott Lynch short story, miss the appropriate exit in Orem, get re-directed from trio of drunk women in a Shell Station, check into the hotel, devour some mushroom pizza, sleep the contended sleep of the well-traveled.

TUESDAY 
The Plan: Depart Orem by 8:00 am, drive through the majority of Utah, a tiny portion of Arizona, a portion of Nevada and the majority of California, stop for Subway someplace, navigate the treacherous streets of Los Angeles, arrive at Archstone, celebrate.
What Actually Happened: Depart Orem by 10:30 am, drive through the majority of Utah, rock out a singalong of The Hazards of Love through the appropriately pseudo-taiga of southern Utah, stop for Subway in Cedar City, Utah, drive through a tiny portion of Arizona, rock out a singalong of Hadestown through the gorgeously badass Virgin River Canyon, pit stop in Vegas' Chinatown for a stretcher, get stranded in Baker, California, home of Alien Brand Jerky and the worst fucking on-ramp in the history of transpor-fucking-tation, watch the sun set over Zzyzx, finish our subs in Barstow, press onward to Los Angeles, listen to Tom Waits as we arrive at Archstone, celebrate.

Lighting Out

I know, I know.

It's supposed to be an excerpt day, but I'm still between projects. Maybe we can talk Ragtime on Thursday.

After an insufferably long holiday, I'm finally heading back west. I'd never intended to stay back here in Minnesota for a full month, but I unfortunately had very little say in the matter. I'm eager to return to business as usual.

I swear to moons, if one more person says "Now that's a movie!" within earshot of me, I'll bisect out their organs, in reverse order of usefulness.

When next you hear from me, I'll be returned to Hollywood.