Not gonna lie, y'all. Lately it feels like we're living under a darkening sky - so many people in such dire straits - and even the best acts of solidarity seem microscopic compared to the enormity of the need. I've really enjoyed my little tornado alley tour, but it's hard not to feel like the whole exercise is a bit privileged and frivolous. Who can get worked up over the finer nuances of playing with story-barbies when the whole world is underwater, on fire, or both?
But I just got this beautiful message from a beautiful person whom I met on the tour, and she said it would be all right if I shared a part of it here.
Guys. Guys. In the past 24 hours, I've driven 900 miles, given two presentations, and gone eclipsing with the hedonists of Hebron, Nebraska. Needless to say, my death is now imminent. But before I go, I need to tell you something. Come closer. Are you listening?
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The Tornado Alley Tour has begun!
And you know - there may come a day when I am sick to death of going places, but I don't think I will ever stop being bowled over by the opportunity to be a guest in someone else's life. It is just such a thrill and a treat, y'all - to spend a day living in an alternate timeline, if you will.
Listen, y'all. I can get down with left-coast libertines. I love the weather - the food - the public transit - the weather - the creative scene - and the weather's not bad either.
But it's time to get back to my roots. My people. My time zone. And that's why we're hitting the road and doing it:
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