Writer of fiction, poetry, etc - based in Vancouver BC
I slept on the plane, on and off, my arms and legs sore and the rest once or twice punctured by an anguished baby. I’m partway there now—in a TGI Friday’s in the Atlanta Airport, a little bit away from the gate my flight to Nassau is leaving from.
Not much to say. In Georgia: never been to Georgia before. Won’t see anything but the airport, the drizzle and the overcast outside. Weather not so much different from Vancouver.
The music they play here is better than what they play at YVR. I don’t even remember what they do at YVR. What did I do? I walked out and walked a long time, passed many gates and restaurants and shops, boarded a train. This airport is vast: they need a train for it. At one point the mayor of Atlanta came a loudspeaker, or a recorded voice of him, and he extolled the virtues of the world’s largest and most efficient airport. He welcomed anyone to Atlanta who was coming to Atlanta, anyone coming back or anyone leaving, and he welcomed even those who were just passing through and bid them to consider adding a stay in Atlanta to their travel plans sometime in the future.
The accents here: I am not used to the accents. This is the South. I have never been to the south. But I know the accent.
…
Finished Agnon early yesterday before I started packing and getting ready. Only Yesterday was a momentous book. I learned some lessons on how to write from it—and I strongly recommend it.
Then I started packing, the day bled away into pre-flight anxiety. I was productive, as I said. Finally grandpa gave me a ride to the airport. I walked in and the fire alarm was going off. It stopped after a moment, as I was getting my boarded passes. Checked bag; went through security; went to Vino Volo for dinner, because it was close to the gate, and because they’ve bought from us enough. The pre-flight anxiety made me switch my table three times before settling, as the staff of the empty restaurant watched me, having nothing much else to do. … the wine did help with that. Had a carne pizza and a flight of three local wines. If I sell them, I might as well try them. And I do enjoy that.
I sipped at those as I ate and then killed time working on polishing the draft I’ve got of Beloeil. Did about half of that. Had worked on Mirror, which is done, and Trois-Pistoles—which I’ve made good progress on—earlier in the day. Making good time.
I finished Agnon yesterday, and I just read the first chapter of Kevin Chong’s The Double Life of Benson Yu sitting here at TGI Friday’s. Also very good—absolutely nothing like anything by S.Y. Agnon. I do like contrasts.
Boarding my flight to Nassau in fifty minutes. Then my couple of hours in Georgia will be at an end. This is what I have written here.
…
The turbulence on the descent was awful. The rain was visible out the window, and I mistook the lights on the wings for lightning. I don’t think I’ll ever like turbulence. But I like to travel. For all the anxiety, and the discomfort, and the etc., I do love to travel.
Later:
At Andrew’s place on Eleuthera. It had been a majestic journey, and the view I arrive to is majestic. Both views: the ocean can be seen in either direction. Hopefully will have time to outline the trip here before bed.