Countdown

Orders of business:

1. I have found a local friend with high speed Internet to purchase the Andrew Bird tickets for me.

2. At the urging of half a dozen blog readers, I have in fact sent my “open letter” to Andrew Bird to…Andrew Bird. Well, I actually sent it to his manager who answered the phone when I called to inquire about an address. Don’t worry, I included a disclaimer that offered context for the letter. Jeez, I don’t think I’ve written fan mail since NKOTB.

3. I am happy to say that 110 copies of Lost Crossings have safely arrived on Fork Mountain, 22 of which will be immediately mailed to donors. Meanwhile, Shane is riding his bike from San Fransisco to Charleston (last time we talked he’d made it to Wichita, KS), then hitching to the mountains to print and frame the photos just in time for our exhibit. Mark your calendars for 9/5 ladies and gents, it’s going to be a big one!

Confessions:

1. Some days, I dream of a bus. On this bus are my favorite books, a Mac Airbook with uninterrupted Internet access, and a handful of my best writing buddies. We also have Encyclopedias, an array of field guides, and fantastic cameras. The bus is equipped with go-go-Gadget inflatable tires (for crossing large bodies of water) and has a biodiesel jetpack for whizzing past traffic jams. It also has multiple built-in espresso machines and French presses, with a lifelong supply of Coffee People Coffee’s Huehuetenago Guatemalan medium roast beans. On this bus there are occasional visits from Bob Dylan, Andrew Bird, Eddie Vedder, Sonic Youth, Stephen Malkmus, and Josh Ritter. Scratch that—Josh Ritter often spends the night on the bus.

2. Other days, I dream of the city. It’s a big city but I live high, high up. I have a quiet place to write even though the world below is very loud and busy all of the time. I am not quite as tormented as Joan Didion and certainly not as unfortunate, but I am almost as respected. I am no longer hypersensitive to sound. I have a husband who comes home and everything is very domestic but it doesn’t smell like plastic and it doesn’t make me feel numb. We laugh about the fact that I used to pee in a bucket and live on a mountain by myself, half a mile from my nearest neighbor (a hound dog named Little Sam, no less).

A few books I would grab from my shelf if my house was burning and my copies were the only ones left on the planet (Joy, this is for you, and yes you can borrow):

1. William Kittredge, Owning it All
2. Steve Almond, My Life in Heavy Metal
3. Aimee Bender, Willful Creatures
4. Ursula Hegi, Hotel of Saints
5. Claire Davis, Labors of the Heart
6. Jack Driscoll, Wanting Only to Be Heard
7. Rick Bass, The Hermit’s Story
8. Judy Blunt, Breaking Clean
9. Pete Fromm, As Cool As I Am
10. Philip Lopate, ed, The Art of the Personal Essay
11. Molly Gloss, The Hearts of Horses
12. Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem and The White Album
13. Henry David Thoreau, The Complete Works
14. Martin Heidegger, Poetry, Language, Thought
15. Raymond Carver, Will You Please Be Quiet Please?
16. Judith Kitchen, ed., anthologies – In Short, In Brief, and Short Takes
17. Stanley Kunitz, The Collected Poems
18. Joseph Millar, Overtime
19. Dorianne Laux, Awake
20. Ron Carlson, The Speed of Light
21. Tobias Wolff, Our Story Begins
22. Stuart Dybek, I Sailed With Magellan
23. Wendell Berry, Home Economics
24. Marylinn Robinson, Housekeeping
25. Alexandra Fuller, Don’t Let’s Go…, Scribbling…, and The Legend…