Journey's End
Ugh. A little sick. Too much travel, too many hands shaken, too much bad airplane air. But, since my torture sessions, I mean work-outs, with The Body Editor N. Anderson, my superhuman physique refuses to let little hideous viruses knock me out. They're just wingin' me.

Thanks to all the people who wrote me about my "Holy Lift-Offs" rant in the last post. A joyous outcome of unexpected grace was that a bunch of folks e-mailed me promising to do some small thing to save somebody this year. I was happy about that!

As soon as my juicy Boston paycheck arrives, we will begin the joyous work of slicing it up into useful love-bombs, droppin' hope across the globe. Yes, it's small. So what? Dig this: one year, we were so poor, my mom gave me a simple Christmas present--she wrapped some postage stamps in Christmas paper. That was it. Why? So I could submit one more poem or story in the hopes that someone would publish me.

No, it didn't work. But that act that tiny gift did. If you want to weep over poor ol' Ma, weep over those stamps, over that balogna sandwich she made you that you forgot on the bus--the last balogna in the house. I think a small token of faith, hope, comfort or grace can sometimes sneak through the din and panic. It did for me. Over and over.

When I prayed to die, there would be a cat. Or a poem. Or a song. Or a kiss. All right, 100 kisses. I appreciated and accepted all the kisses that I could get. So we'll see what the filthy lucre does as we unleash its mojo. A big pile of $$$ to Pastor Von: step one. Chickens and milk goats for third world villages. Meals in Chicagoland. School supplies. The loading of meals for our African and other children out there requires no money--just time and sweat. We are down with that. Maybe, if there are a few dollars left of this check, we can invest in a small business or two via Every penny will go out there.

All right. So! I had a lovely visit in Boston this week. Yes, I have been to Boston three times in the last six weeks. I did Maria Hinojosa's "One on One" TV show for PBS. Um. Look. I'm not that good at self-promotion, so I forgot to ask when the show airs. Oops. Twitter people have been mocking me about it.

But, honestly, I don't intend to watch it! But I know Cinderella will figure it out and we'll post it here. You can watch it. It was amazing. I can say that much: Maria and I had a fantastic interview. I just don't want to see myself. I'm like Jack Palance--he never saw one of his own films.

Also, thanks to the many folks who have written about the Playboy story. I thought El Pasoans who didn't get the love-letter aspect of the piece would holler at me, but loads of people have been very kind and enthusiastic. That's great. (Even though some of the best parts were cut out--like Papaburger!) Now, go to El Paso and spend your dollars there. Buy Chico's Tacos. Attend a Radio La Chusma show. Buy Cinco Puntos books at the Cinco Puntos building. Eat at Papaburger! Get a tan. Maybe...just maybe...think twice about going over to Juarez right now.

One last trip to go. Miami. Leaving tomorrow. Trying to get un-sick. If you're there, I will be taking part in the last event on the last day (Sunday). Easy to find.

I will be recuperating and writing for the next two months. Then, I'm going to hit the road HARD in 2010. I've declared it the Save The World Tour. We're going to figure things out, you and I. We're going to plant little mustard seeds of hope and healing everywhere we go. So start thinking.

See you in FLA.


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