voices of quetta
Hi, I'm ambulatory again. Last night I locked myself out of my apartment before we went to the Shriner-run haunted corn maze (dead people grabbed my ankles) and I ended up spending the night on Aimee Phan's couch. And on Friday night we shot far too much whiskey; and we saw a star that was not a star; and we discussed the caliphate and global warming; and we serenaded third-story windows; and though I could barely stand up I shot baskets with surprising accuracy. Thirty-six hours later I have at last had my coffee and shaved and read Season of Migration to the North, which is an odd book, so I'm more or less back.
Thinking about spending a month this summer at the Hermandad Educativa in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. A conversational and sociopolitical crash course, plus showing some movies to campesinos or whatever; it could be good.
