Denver 1

April 7, 2010

Asheville Airport, Fought the desire not to make this journey, preferring not lose the three solid days I’d have to work in the garden or the studio. But, here I am, not wishing to lose the money for the flight, having already cancelled my classes with some fanfare. The skunk-smelling but otherwise magnificent crown imperial are ready to bloom.

I haven’t taken time to express gratitude for the end of Holy Week, and the deep sense of revival and redemption– I want to say renewal of mirth–that settled on me.

Photos of Elian Gonzalez on the Internet. He turned into the handsomest boy in the world. It’s only fair.

Exceptional flight from Atlanta. Sat with a father and a son (son about 13) from Charleston, flying to Denver to do some skiing. They had a loving, playful relationship. They were playing a trivia game on the airplane system, and I joined in, and I felt like a kid among kids. Unusual number of assholes elsewhere in the ship: a painfully thin woman who reported someone who was looking “suspicious” and who fussed at the stewardesses to tell people to shut their cell phones off, and generally minded everyone else’s business. Take-off was delayed because somebody in 1st class “refuses to turn off his cell phone.” The van from the airport was driven by the Rain Man, who had to ask everyone to spell their name in the same formula, H as in Hello, O is in Orange, etc, and who had to keep repeating the names of the hotels to remember where he was going. I’m on the 24th floor of the Hyatt Convention Center. I can see the golden dome of the capitol from here. All around is flat and gray-brown. I am told there are mountains.

AWP. Drunken writers in the hotel bar, sounding like a flamingo rookery. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?