it's a wet, hot, american summer. my new address sits squarely on the buckle of the bible belt. through heat distortion, the roads stretch out for paved and gleaming miles under the biggest sky this side of the mississippi, all brown and dead. coal freighters and garbage boats navigate around such gems as the Casino Queen, where children of all ages over 21 can spend a day and a fortune "offshore".

mockingbirds love the weather here. plenty of gnats, flies, chiggers, and mosquitos to fill their bellies and fuel their throats. i am happy, and tired, and sweat from the day's work still clings to my face where hair and forehead meet. i've been drinking water, which i usually hate. i set my alarm now. i work in business casual dress. as seen from the window of my new apartment, in all hopes, chuck berry, wilco, nelly, 100 indie kids, 1000 post-indie kids, and each and every one of my handful of new and old friends will parade by as i wave from behind glass and an old airconditioner.