I have nothing but muddled heads and complaints today. I’m sorry about that, but it’s been a long travel day and other than flying and waiting and flying and sitting, not much happened.

I’m stuck flying 30,000 feet over somewhere. I’m not sure where and I’m not sure why it refuses to end. It’s now almost 11am and I still have another three hours on this leg. Then I have another three hours on the LAX to SEA flight. I promised not to complain, but I’m going to make an exception here. There. I did it. See, it wasn’t that painful. It was just something that I had to do and I think I’m a better person for it. Now, if I can stop my right, front brain from pulsating somewhat painfully, I’ll be able to get things done, important things.

I spoke yesterday about summarizing my trip to Taiwan. I’ve given it some thought, and I’m not sure what I can say that I haven’t already said. It was fun, a bit long for my tastes—after four days, I tend to start missing my home and comfortable bed and the routine that is my life—but it was understandably long. I wouldn’t want to travel this far and stay for a few days. The flight is too damn long. Yes, I know, I did it again.

I planned to edit the Trophy vignette, but I can’t find the energy. It’s still early or late, or I’m very confused. Doolies’s family claimed that the jetlag going in this direction was easier. I find that hard to believe, particularly based on how I’m feeling now, but time will tell as it has a way of doing.

I spent the last thirty minutes reading old entries I had saved on this computer, particularly the ones I wrote a week or so before November. I thought most of the vignettes I wrote then were quite good. I have to get back to telling a story every day. But for now, I have to find a way to survive the rest of this trip.

I made it to LAX. I now have to wait to get on an Alaskan airplane to Seattle. The problem with Alaska Air, for those of you lucky enough never to have flown this excuse for an airline, is that their planes never depart on time. There are four to five flights heading to Seattle today. The one that was supposed to have left at 2 (it’s now 4), it was just announced will be leaving at midnight. The next flight, the 4:25 on which I’m on the standby list, just arrived, and it will certainly not take off by 4:25. After over 11 hours on an airplane, it doesn’t much make a difference how much longer I have to wait. I’m content to sit here and read.

I’m wondering what happened to DFW in Oblivion, his newest collection of short stories. He’s one of my favorite authors, but his stories now seem—what would be a word DFW would appreciate—masturbatory. I’ll withhold final judgment until the end. I’m sure he’s waiting to pull a rabbit out of his hat. He does that: makes you read fifty pages broken up into three paragraphs (for the entire fifty pages), and when you to get to the end, you’re hysterically laughing (or crying) as he ties and explains his long-winded story together.