Litter

The Great Plotnik is back at his desk, which is covered with Victor Jara CDs, computers, cables, a flash drive and a mike and a mike stand and a wall phone that is for the time being a desk phone because the cheap plastic wall mount broke, a coffee cup from New Orleans, an old drum machine from Tokyo, speakers, a kleenex box, invitations from press agents and theater companies, pictures of Isabella...hmm, let's stop for a moment and look at that one, awww...and that one...awwww...and ten zillion pieces of paper which should probably be looked at before, say, October, and Plotnik's mug from college filled with pens that don't write and grease pencils with no tips. And the old computer keyboard and the old PC monitor and the old PC mouse.

The first thing that has to be done when you get home from a trip is to clean up all the litter from before you left. Your mind is littered enough with thoughts like "My, it felt free and wonderful to be on our own and moving through the clear, clean air of Patagonia," and "My, wasn't it a great feeling to be hiking on that glacier and staring at those cave paintings and playing that white charango (which you should have bought, you cheapskate) and, my, how about tango-ing in the park?"