Heading to Chicago tomorrow (sorry, David, just missed you) for a house-hunting trip. If I'm lucky, I'll experience the dubious joys of blogging from my boyhood home.

Airplane/trip reading always a dilemma. I often find I can't read poetry on planes--brain too deadened and wanting to stay that way--so I usually lug a novel. I picked up Don DeLillo's new book--perfect airplane length at 200 generously spaced pp.--and the Penguin edition of Borges's Collected Fictions.

When I go to Chicago all I want to do is eat. Mmmm, pizza.