Wednesday, September 28, 2005


last night I took the back roads to my parents' house. Forget yoga, meditation, tranquilizers, therapy, or liquor. There's nothing more relaxing and mind-settling than a long drive through the cornfields with the windows down and the lyrics "found myself face down in the ditch, booze in my hair, blood on my lips, picture of you holding a picture of me in the pocket of my blue jeans" ringing in your ears.
the world smelled like soybeans and burning leaves and I've not felt that good in weeks.