Luville

I just checked into to my hotel in Louisville, where I'll be attending the Conference Formerly Known as Twentieth Century Literature over the next few days. So far, I've only seen the airport and the low-budget strip to its south where my motel is located. My non-smoking room seems to have fallen off the wagon. And I'm dead tired from going to bed at 3:15am and getting up just an hour later. For all that, though, I'm as happy as I can hope to be these days. I got a ton of writing -- by hand -- done on the plane and in the airport, I had an extended conversation with the woman at the Hertz counter here about postmodern literature, I have fast, free wireless and, most importantly, I'm going to head out shortly for dinner at Lynn's Paradise Café, after which I will make my annual pilgrimage to Ear-X-Tacy. Did I mention that it's supposed to snow? I love it here.

In Which the Goat Sweater Is Confronted By Cheese Grits