Post Notes

OK, here’s a quick thing I wrote after a meeting last weekend:

The thing about traveling to Orlando is that one of my favorite human beings in the history of my life lives within 20 minutes of where I sit.

The only reason I speculate, consider and contemplate Ann is because she was one of the first ones there in the darkest of days. Where I saw desperation, she saw fascination. When Kara bailed, Ann rowed. Where I saw Cobain, she saw Burroughs. I'm far from either of the above. But someone saw something in me. That's the last glint of hope I had, and have. She warned me to be wary of Christine. She has always told me to write. This is churning through my head as...

I’m here for a presentation for almost exactly 24 hours, which includes an 8 AM on stage moment to 200 of the world’s top gastro docs. So I can’t be tired and hungover tomorrow. Not that it would happen, but it basically means that I’m not going to see Ann on this particular trip. Probably for the best. Last time I went to meet a fave, it didn’t end well. It might have, but my legendary moodiness and fear of even the slightest whiff of commitment kicked in with the mojo of a rutting bull sprinting from the very musk that lured him. In other words, I’m afraid I’m not in a friendly, titratable xanax and alcohol and Chinese food situation. Phoenix, the hottest city in the US, was cooler than I thought. I rue the night I ruined it.