Felt a little cold as we lifted up into the airspace north of Baton Rouge.  Touch down Atlanta.  Touch down Indianapolis.  Short trip to Muncie.  From there we drank, watched sports, ran within a trail, ate food, watched sports live, then slept.
Later we drove to Indianapolis.  We had a quick tour by car.  I tried to keep from throwing up.  It was a mixture of car sickness and man made flu (the day before was a mixture of Miller High Life, Jim Beam mixed with diet Pepsi, and various other liquids).  It was a rough stretch I can promise you. 
I started Distant Star by Roberto Bolano, and empathized with the poets hanging around poetry workshops picking at their craft.  I ended up finishing this short novel last night:


"This is my last communique from the planet of the monsters.  Never again will I immerse myself in literature's bottomless cesspools.  I will go back to writing my poems, such as they are, find a job to keep body and soul together, and make no attempt to be published."

Needless to say, after finishing his book, with yet more allusions to labyrinths and dreams,  I had a dream that Peyton Manning was trying to kill me.  No shit.  I almost wished I would have written it all down when I woke up at three in the morning.  His giant forehead loomed ominous as he sought to destroy my life. 

10/2/13