It's something like 1 a.m, but no one has informed MY body clock, which thinks it's 3 or 6 or something; while I am here in Portland, my body thinks it's in the Maritime Zone, or at the very least East Coast Standard, or possibly Central, but not Pacific. It's been a most ridiculous week. I've made my way from a boat off the coast of Nova Scotia to a really garish hotel. Culture shock. This is how it happened:

First off, I went on a cruise with Jeff's work. Ever been on a cruise? To put it gently--not quite my bag, cruising. No indeed, not quite. By the end of the week, I was hiding in my room, doing enough yoga to make me as bendy as a rubber band in an effort to make myself more zen, and dreaming of the day I'd be off that blasted boat. On the upside--Jeff and I had a smashing time on the days we docked in some little coastal towns between Montreal and Boston--and Nova Scotis is just gorgeous. I'm going to head back there to hike as soon as possible--because when visiting on a boat, the only way to see the beautiful green landscape and the silvery sea is to take a massive tour bus. Which is no way to see a place. SO:

Once docked in Boston, I had a fantastic meeting with my Houghton Mifflin editor, who is brilliant and lovely and who I worship and adore, and we hammered out some more details on the new book. I'm getting deeper into research, which as you know is one of my very favorite parts of writing--just diving in and reading and notetaking and getting the juices flowing and the ideas down on paper. So I'm happy as a clam. Meanwhile...

I'm crunched with the fall writing season, which is always busy (grant applications are always due, and I often lecture a bunch in fall), and which is made busier by the fact that somehow I've gotten myself assigned two new articles, with which I'm having a wonderful time. On the matter of journalism--those of you who know Trockman the killer photographer may be pleased to know that he and I are in a flurry of plans for articles we're hoping to do together next year. I can't wait to be working with him again. Journalism with a stunningly talented photojournalist is an incredible experience, and I'm thrilled.

But. As one of you noted on the discussion board, we have had a horrible loss in the death of David Foster Wallace. I don't believe there was a better writer in his generation--no one who combined brilliant intellect with ground-breaking writing the way that he did. His death is heartbreaking, and we have lost a truly great writer. As those of you who have followed my recent blogs, I took issue with some of his opinions, but my passionate engagement with his work was only testament to the powerful impact his work had on me. So. Let's all send up whatever thoughts we send up to the powers that be for his loved ones, and in his honor.


Peace,
M