My son Theo cut out and drew the map for airplanes above. I taped it to the wall above my desk because I liked how the planes are following a path beneath the clouds toward the sun. I’ve always suffered from depression and felt like he was offering to be my navigator through it. The black clouds. Anyway, I love it. We’re in Mexico City instead of Omaha and it’s a great depression cure if you can swing it. The February mix seems bright to me as a result: Water From Your Eyes, Phantom Youth, Raf Rundell, Big Piig. And a Feelies cover thrown in for good measure. The songs aren’t sequenced all that well so just put it on random if you want.

Our rental here is on the eighth floor and in the mornings I’ve been sneaking up to a half-constructed terrace to slowly edit the manuscript of my Nebraska novel. The surroundings feel like a draft, and I can read it out loud to edit the cadence of the language. It’s splendid but taking forever. I was hoping to have it done before we head back to Omaha, but I don’t think so. It’s not like anyone’s waiting for it.