The dregs of summer should be extra-dreggy this year, what with my travel break, but I’m delighted that this has hardly been the case. For that I’d like to thank Big Pharma and the makers of this magic pill.
I saw a new doctor a week ago, who sent me home with a couple of Nurtec sample packets. Since it’s generally not the drug of choice for vestibular migraines like mine, I was skeptical.
And then, before the taste of the pasty dissolvable tablet was out of my mouth, I noticed the unfamiliar feeling of my head not hurting. The fog cleared. Thoughts came into focus. When I stood, the floor didn’t wobble.
Does this mean I’m … well? Getting there! Tomorrow I have the midpoint re-evaluation of my vestibular therapy to see how that’s going, and I’m pretty confident the results will be a lot different than the ones I got six weeks ago.
You guys? I might be okay!
I’m starting to get excited about fall travels. CJ returns to Kansas City on Friday for their senior year at the KC Art Institute. I won’t be making that trip, since my seat in the car has been reserved for Rubbermaid totes of yarn.
But in September, things start moving! In a month and two days I’m making my first trip to Madison, Wisconsin to see Patti Smith read from her book, Bread of Angels, and pick up a new copy. Mine has endured traumas unimaginable.
I told my friend Tessa about the trip and she asked if I was going to the Madison Book Festival.
The what? I’m not sure?
It seems this book festival lasts for, like, two months. While Patti will be in Madison during that time, she’s not officially part of the festival. But Issac Fitzgerald is, and he’ll be in conversation the night after Patti. So I extended my trip to catch his talk.
The better part of four days in Madison with two book talks over the vernal equinox further north than St. Louis sounds perfect.
As for Issac, I’m currently reading his latest book, American Rambler, in which he documents the experience of walking Johnny Appleseed’s trails. I first encountered Issac a decade or so ago when he was curating the anthology Knives and Ink, a collection of stories, recipes, and art by Wendy McNaughton concerning food industry people and their tattoos. Since I was deeply in my chef years, I wrote about the jar of my granny’s gooseberry jam that’s on the back of my calf.
So, Madison in September! And October? Last week Southwest had a sale that actually had sale prices to Burbank. Between that and a $150 voucher to make up for a gate agent being an asshole last May, I’m going to Los Angeles for my birthday for $75.
And then there’s two jaunts to Indianapolis for concerts in November, followed by chasing the Afghan Whigs down to New Orleans. I’d say that’s a good autumn run.
In the meantime I’m focusing on journeys of the mind. Or something. I’m reading a lot of books, is what I’m saying. Right before I left for Solid Sound in June I decided to take a hiatus from partaking in THC products. Mostly because I wanted to go into the vestibular evaluation and treatments clean. And because edibles get pricy. I was going to take a one-month break but I’m quickly coming up on two months and I can’t say I’m missing it much.
The downside: I’m no longer nearly as easy to entertain as I used to be. Doom-scrolling and repeated viewings of the same episodes of “The Office” no longer cut it without weed. I used to be a voracious reader. And by “used to,” I mean through the bulk of my life I’d knock out 30-50 books a year. But when I had my knee replacement surgeries in 2022, the opioid painkillers ruined my ability to focus on books. By the time I was finished with the drugs, I’d lost the reading habit.
In the last four weeks, I’ve finished five books. Crazy, right? Some of them were indirectly about travel—Bread of Angels has stories of Patti Smith tours in the 1970s along with visiting the places of artists who inspired her, and James centers around Huck Finn and enslaved Jim’s epic journey on the Mississippi.
But there are a lot of travelogue books that have recently been released. American Rambler being one. Earlier this week I finished another, Monster of a Land by Lauren Hough, in which she drove the path John Steinbeck took with his poodle in Travels with Charley, which is one of my favorites. She took her dog, Woody Guthrie, with her, so you know I had to read it.
After Issac’s ramble and Lena Dunham’s Famesick for a book club, I’ve got my eye on Midwestern Death Trip by Meaghan Garvey. Again with traveling.
Am I reading all these travelogues to steal ideas? No more than any other writer who reads books in their preferred genre. These are all books I’d enjoy on their own, but I’m also looking for books that have similar themes to my Woody Guthrie manuscript. Being able to say, “Look! This is kinda like my book and people are buying it!” makes it easier to get an agent, I’m told.
Today I planned to write about Monster of a Land, but I went to a coffeehouse and forgot to bring my copy with me. So next Substack, maybe I’ll write about it. Same with some of these other books. Sound good, switching to a travel book Substack for a month or so? It better, because I think that’s what I’m going to do.
In the process I’ve been motivated to do another revision on my manuscript because I keep thinking things like, “This sentence is perfect! What did she do to make this sentence perfect? Can I do this to perfect some of my sentences? Let’s find out!” To that tune I’m accepting a couple of manuscript-readers to make sure I’m not screwing up my book. Drop me a message if you’re interested.
Wanna chip in for my Nurtec in case my insurance won’t cover it?