newark, new jersey

today, i missed a flight because i was writing. sitting at the gate imagining being someone else and writing about accidental intimacy in postmodern spaces in the persona of a frat boy who feels especically tender towards one friend, and the only thing he can do about it is lean slightly towards his friend to speak more directly in his ear, but in that sideways way of men who don't want to be too close to one another, when all he wants to do is stroke his friend's gray sweater, a gift from his fancy grandmother who wears pearls in her puffy french twist, furs and lace. missed all the boarding calls and repeated requests over the PA system for "passenger stone to report to gate C99. six hours later, i'm (finally) about to board a plane for manchester, NH where extremely empathetic and charitable writer friends will pick me up and take me to goddard, a place of good fairies and mountain magic in a synergistic relationship with higher education. hell yes.