I left New York at 6 am, having only slept an hour — the night before that, three. And as the plane crossed half the country, sinking and rising in slow cycles, I fell into dreams, and was lifted from them by new altitude. In my dreams, I woke up to the plane setting down in Iowa, but I couldn’t move, so limp from fatigue. And then I’d rise from the dream as the plane ascended, and descend into dreams of waking as it fell.
When we finally landed, stairs were wheeled up to the plane. I walked down them (—like a president greeting a crowd, except I swayed with nine days’ worth of clothes and books in carry-ons—) and I thought I’d trip. And I struggled hard to keep my balance against the morning light (— the anticipation of a crowd, I thought, not much different than my count-down, taken step by step, to level ground).
I could see, from the plane’s window and then again, outside the airport, that Iowa had finally won its spring. But it wasn’t a pleasant spring. The cornfields were dry and, since the land was flat, they looked like sand, and desert. I took an airport shuttle home, hoping, for my body’s sake, that the monotony of fields was a fair compromise between the the nill of sleep and my short-term need to stay awake.
And now I’m home. And, as sad as this sounds, home partly means my own computer — my email, weblog, cable modem — which domesticate my apartment like pets do, waiting to be attended to when I come in from trips.

I’ve been feeling guilty about not writing more, or better, posts while in NY. It’s not that I’m worried about my readers (-you-), but that I hate thoughts and ideas going to waste — not being properly stored (in my weblog, my internet refrigerator). There’s lots of things I did in NY that I want to post about — and god no, not as journals. I might nap now, but I want to put up my thoughts on the Whitney Biennial, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and some books I’m reading. And I’ve bookmarked dozens of sites that I should sort through, discarding the links that other sites have used, and hoping some remain for blogging. So, this post means to say I’m back, and my weblog will, again, have links and commentary, and I hope you’ll relapse into the habit of reading it.

(Ok: now to my bed, for napping.)