But what transpired instead? I played solitaire on my phone. And that game where you flick a ball of paper into a wastebasket against the windy peril of an enemy desk fan. And I slept with my mouth open. And I ate about a trillion candied pecans out of my purse, because airlines are in such a state nowadays that you have to smuggle your OWN NUT PRODUCTS ON BOARD. Forget the TSA kerfuffle. I want my snacks restored!
I've since cracked the Vanity Fair. I'm past photos from the Jessica Seinfeld party in the Hamptons, but not yet to the think piece on the NEW ESTABLISHMENT 2010 (I predict Snooki).
I did come across a great John Heilpern interview with Pulitzer Prize winning playwright Tony Kushner, and wanted to share this quote with the rest of you writers who live for the craft but would just assume eat purse peanuts until your stomach bleeds than pick up a pen some days.
John Heilpern: "Do you agree that writers are world-class avoiders of writing?"
Tony Kushner: "I could run rings around anyone! Gardening is a great diversion. I have a terrace, and I'll suddenly decide even in the dead of winter to go out and wrap pots in burlap. I shop. I shop for books and more books. There's so much that's really good to watch on TV, too - most recently Breaking Bad. I also have a fountain pen fetish."
So, there you have it. Burlap pots. Makes me feel like a machine. Thanks, Tony!