As they say, one man's eyesore is another man's cool
hair-cutting place. It makes sense when you've seen
it firsthand and can understand the inherit problems
in isolating the exact problem. So, something else
happens that must be mentioned. I hate
to get into it, but we'll have to. Deep in the black night
of deep blackness, no one can witness the invisible.
I remember, years ago, when you had those issues
with the high-schoolers and the kids at bake camp, you
would find yourself up way past midnight, pressing
the buttons of a remote control so deftly that you
thought you had found a calling. Those were heavy, heady
moments. Those were the good times. But, it's hard
to feel the urgency in a damp hug. I don't even enjoy laying
beside dead bodies. Never, not once, have I wanted a dead
body sitting in the passenger seat of my car. My car
is for going places and places that are gone to don't deserve
the dead. O, no. Something different. Something
that requires a scoop of iced cream and less death-y.
