On the road again
Heather’s father died last year and this will be the first Christmas without him, so it goes without saying that she needs to be home on the East Coast for the holidays. While the filthy lucre of publishing might be flowing like sweet wine, it wasn’t flowing that sweet, so a second plane flight was out of the question. Instead I’ll be driving up to Wyoming to spend the holidays with my brother and parents. I’m the evil son that never writes, calls or visits, so it will be good to see my family.
Which puts me on the road.
I had vague plans to hook up with friends last night, but I ended up at a punk bar instead. I did more people watching than drinking, taking notes for the vampire book and relishing the frantic, desperate way we humans throw ourselves at each other. The girl working the bar looked like she was counting the days to her fourteenth birthday, had two purple pigtails and wore the same yellow, ducky galoshes you might seen on Paul Kemp’s kids.
By the time I had had my fill, I had missed my window for finding my friends, along with a warm place to crash for the night. I drove back onto campus, unstuffed the sleeping bag and slept in the car.*
Woke up to frost on the inside of the windshield. Fitting punishment for getting distracted with people watching and forgetting my prior commitments, tentative though they may have been.
Tonight I arrive in Wyoming and settle into seven days of hardcore writing. Vampires staff my dreams. I’ll be away from the internet, but if you need to reach me, both Ashlock and Gentry have my number. :)
Happy holidays, everyone. Be safe, and I’ll see you in the new year!
* There are millions of people out in the world that aren’t so lucky to have the choice of sleeping in their car; Harley “playing homeless” is an insult to all those people. And yet, some small part of me delights in the charade.
Something else to go to hell for.