OJ Simpson

I've been thinking a lot about fate, having a lot of time, driving from San Francisco to Wyoming, to think.
Once you get off the mountain and through Reno driving east on 80, it's the loneliest stretch of country in the universe, the kind of place where you can see nothing for miles and wouldn't know if H-bombs were being tested.
Once in awhile there's a town to pass and I wonder that if a man's character is his fate, as the Greeks believed, what kind of men live in them?
Well, OJ Simpson is in jail in Lovelock, Nevada, 90 miles east of Reno. I can see the joint on the south side of the highway all by itself, but pass it in a flash. I don't know if OJ's saga qualifies as Greek myth, but it's sad and someone killed those two people in passion and cold blood.
Then thete's a wonderful sight outside Winnemucca when the full moon is face to face with the sun like they're equals, but it only lasts a few minutes.
I've got some hard decisions to make about Thomas Fuller and Monsieur Ambivalence. What do I want to do with the book? How much time should I take promoting it? Should I just let it take it's own place in the world, knowing how good it is, trusting whatever happens to it is what's meant to happen?
I don't want to think, so I listen to Stevie Wonder and the cd Joe K. made for me of gospel music, until I get to Elko.
Dinner at the Basque restaurant. Then a cheap room in the casino across the street. I did 500 miles, more than I thought I'd do. I have a dream that Jimmy Conners beats Rafael Nadal in straight sets at the US Open, take a shower and start driving to Salt Lake.