Thanksgiving Dispatch

Let us give thanks for peculiar things. The other morning, driving down old Route 66, I came across a huge tumbleweed sitting in the middle of the road in the heart of the ghetto. Cars were mincing around it like nervous coyotes. And I wondered: Where did it come from? Did it just blow on up 66 from Tucumcari? Or, over on Roosevelt in a big empty lot with chain link fences and knee-high weeks and a glitter of broken bottles, there's a giant plaster alley-cat. He sits there, staring out at the rundown street. Turns out he's an abandoned prop from some television show. But the locals believe he's some kind of police department robot spy watching them through his cat eyes. I noticed yesterday they finally got through the fence and knocked him down. His head is cracked. He's hollow. He's already starting to break up into little colorful chips.

The coming year will feature lots of travel for me. I'll be making appearances all over the place. If you're around Wyoming in December, I'll be in Laramie around the 13th. We'll post the schedule of readings and appearances here.

Soon, the website will be shut down for reconstruction. So if you check in and find that I'm gone, be patient. Keep coming back. And remember we'll be sending out our e-newsletter starting with the New Year.

It's snowing. This weekend we got to see Robert Mirabal in concert and tonight, we're going to see Cafe Tacuba. Give thanks for the singers.


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