How do they pee in space? Well, this question was answered for me tonight in Portland maine when a fan gave me -gave me- a NASA pee-bag her daddy designed. Yeah, I know -coolest present ever. I only wish it had been…used. Can you imagine having authentic astronaut pee in your own home? Also? Two people brought me Lilacs. And one person brought me a tiny, mini tote bad filled with treats. Somebody else gave me their college literary journal and yet another person gave me some writing from their class of kids. I have to say, Portland, Maine blew me away. The warmth of the people, the beauty of the place, the rugged good looks of the fellas and the cool beauty of the girls. Yeah, I could live here
Portsmouth, NH just made me sick it was so lovely. And again, the people! I could live there. Except the streets are confusing and I would get lost and end up in the “rough” part of town with the episcopalians and their pointed sticks. And who is that coal-black haired waiter at the place with the pear salad? Jesus man alive, what is HE doing without a four-picture deal? Locals, you know EXACTLY who I am talking about. Does he ever smile? And my “host” for the evening? She looked just like Jodie Foster. I SO wanted her to pull a gun out of her purse. DAMN HER.
Next is Manchester Center and I can’t wait
This has been THE best book tour, ever. My fans are beautiful, honest, patient, loving, they feel like friends. They give me presents and they should not because it is more than enough of a present to meet them face-to-face.
Wolf is a dark book, there’s no question. And yet it resonates with people. I was not the only one with a “bad” father. There are a lot of us. But the good dads come out, too. And that always chokes me up.
Thank you to EVERYBODY who came out to meet me. Who brought me sweatshirts and M&M’s and beautiful books and just every imaginable thing. Who cried, laughed, shook with nervousness, who handed me their journals to sign and even (once) their boob. I love you, I love you, I love you. You made this the best tour of my life.
And now? In exactly one hour I board a tiny plane here in Portland, Maine and about an hour later will touch down at a landing strip about seven miles form my house. There, a goat-drawn carriage will take me to…BENTLEY AND THE COW! And yeah, Dennis, too.
But how ABOUT this pee-bag? Man, if my dad had made pee bags for NASA? I would have KISSED HIS ASS instead of, well.
It’s Friday. Do you know what that means? BATTLESTAR GALACTICA!!!!!!!!
Two rugged, capable pilots flew me from Portland, ME to Northampton, MA today. While I was KIND OF hoping the plane would crash because then I could write a memoir about it, the air was smooth like glass or Dolphin skin.
See? Real pilots wearing headphone things and speaking to Air Traffic Control and doing whatever else. Actually, they were probably buying things on eBay via the new ebay “E-Air” for pilots interface. No, fools, I made that up -don’t go looking for the E-Air interface from eBay.
The damn wing was in the way the whole time. I hear this is why a Cessna is the plane to have. Its wings are on top. Where wings should be, when you think about it. I am TOTALLY taking flying lessons and then I am going to find a Cessna and just TAKE IT and fly away.
They were real nice guys and seemed to be good friends. Not Brokeback Mountain friends or anything, just friends. ESPN friends. I sat in back and listened to all my girly songs on my iPod thinking, “If they KNEW what I was listening to? They would open the door and kick me out.” It took an hour, the whole trip. As opposed to the 97 hours it would have taken on Amtrak, not counting the derailment that probably would have happened. Or a crane would have fallen on the train.
Almost home, listening to my iPod. Mentally, I am singing along: “Jesus, take the wheel! Take it from my hands. ‘Cause I can’t do this on my own. I’m letting go! So give me one more chance…save me from this road I’m on. Jesus take the wheel….”
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