I’m at the airport preparing for another long flight to NYC. Actually (since I should start telling the truth instead of lying and then apologizing), this flight isn’t terribly long. It’s a five-hour overnight flight, which sucks because if I’m able to sleep, they wake me after a few hours for landing. The return flight is longer, weighing in at over seven hours. Do you see my dedication to visiting NYC? I put my own comfort and back at risk.

I keep opening and closing my laptop, thinking I have something to say, and then realizing I have nothing. I want to spend my airport time twiddling away by writing clever prose but nothing is coming out. Many things came out the other end after a day of terrible eating, but I won’t get into those details.

I had this brilliant idea earlier to write a fictional diary, to make up stuff when, like today, nothing goes on in my life. Obviously, I didn’t get very far with that idea. I sit here uninspired much. I’ll skip the standard riposte: yeah, I know I should spend this time writing stories instead of consternating about how I have nothing to say. This is going nowhere fast. I hope to have more to say as my visit to NYC progresses.

In flight: I slept an hour and spent most of my time reading. I complained the other day (as if I do anything but complain here) that I haven’t been satisfied with the amount of reading I’ve done lately. When trapped in an airplane, it’s easier to respond to that complaint. While I am tired (it’s now 2am right-coast time, and close to 5am left-coast time)…I have no end to this sentence. I am tired and I should sleep, but I’m not. I’m waiting until I can get into a bed before I re…I’ll try again. Typing this has made me tired. Very tired.

I made it to Brooklyn. Now it’s time to sleep. (It looks like the website is working. I was going to "fix" it yesterday, but Doolies stopped me, afraid I'd break it and complain and worry about why I can't post.)