By way of introduction. I have literally just walked in the door of my place. I know there is something wrong with me, when I wanted to rush and get my Sunday morning tome delivered.

I am not even quite here yet and I can feel it. I came from a very special place in Wrangell, Alaska. This story won’t be my ebook, Larry Goes To Alaska, because I wrote about being there, not leaving there. Here ya go, kids:

OH, WHAT THE HELL!

Sitting on the flight from Anchorage to Honolulu, which gets in tonight, Saturday. Then, it’s overnight at Best Western and the first flight out to Kauai at 6:30AM tomorrow. 

I was up in the air, no pun intended, about writing my usual Sunday story. I’ve been writing every day in Wrangell, which you will get to read, as soon as I convert it to an ebook, Larry Goes To Alaska. After I finished my last entry this morning, I felt kind of written out. I was thinking, “How can I write my Sunday story without talking about the trip?” I will have nothing to say.

When I boarded the flight in Wrangell, I was thinking I’ll just bail on a story. A funny thing happened. When I started reorganizing myself in my seat, I couldn’t find my reading glasses. I took it as a sign that I wasn’t supposed to write another word, at least for now. Believe me, I did a thorough search. Just then, I heard a                    feint noise. I looked down at my feet and there they were. I swear, I was positive they fell out of a pocket, while going through Wrangell Airport’s rigorous security check. At the risk of sounding like an idiot, yet again, I took it as a sign that I needed to write to you.

Just a few minutes ago, I opened the computer and I was home. A place I have grown to love, more and more, with each new story. Most of the time, I’m not sure who the fuck I am. I am this untethered being, in search of his center. When I am here, doing this, I am home, a place located between me and the screen.

I have an unusually peaceful feeling, which came over me, while sitting in the Anchorage airport. I feel calm, like the stillness I viewed every morning in the place we’re not going to talk about now. Airports are one of the most fucked up environments imaginable, invented by sadists, who love watching people go ape shit over missed flights, lost luggage and a host of other torturous delights.

I am sitting on the plane, elbows on the arm rests and fingers clasped in front of my face, my perfect Roman noise resting on top of the clasp. I look down at the screen, out the window and back again. It feels like some kind of prayer in the moment. I don’t want anything. I lack for nothing. I am feeling so rich inside, I just got a Bloody Mary, with two little bottles of Tito’s vodka. Why the fuck are they so hard to unscrew? I even got powdered lime that I spilled all over my lap.

I poured my heart out in my morning, Wrangell stories. I had so much I wanted to share with you at each sitting. I felt like Pavarotti of the printed page. I didn’t have to look for anything, it was all there. Back home, life has a way of feeling terribly repetitious, because it is. Some weeks, it feels like I am working too hard to come up with stories for you.

I love doing this and I am sitting in 20D, crying for a change. To me, the most wonderful feeling in the world is touching the heart     of others. Trust me, the last thing in the world I want to sound like is some presumptuous asshole, at least the presumptuous part. I have no interest in being good at this, I just want to be as real as I can with you.

It can be really hard out there, now more than ever. I tell my grandson, the love of my life, to find joy wherever you can. Yeah, even the repetitious shit for me, is still a source of joy, because I am alive and get to experience it. I like to think I have done such a terrific job in my past lives that this one is my ticket to life after life. 

Trust me, it’s not that I’ve done such a great job this time around, not even close, and that’s not the goddamn point anyway. I just can’t think of any other reason for God being so good to me. I wish I could write about Wrangell, but I can’t, because I did. I don’t feel like the same person, who left Kauai, not even two weeks ago. .            

I will get home early Sunday morning. I will hurriedly put everything away, looking like I never left. I know that for certain, because it is what I’ve always done in the past. After that, with nothing at all I need to do, I just don’t know how I’ll feel. Honestly, I really don’t want to feel the same, because I was stuck. I was terrified of leaving the land of rote and I did

I am already wondering about the story after this one. I know I return to the rote not quite the same as when I left. I just want to say that my time in Wrangell was a priceless gift, making me feel like a spiritual millionaire, a Musk of the moment.

How I spend my experience is a story yet to be written.

PS: Larry Goes To Alaska will be coming to a screen near you very soon.