Monday, August 11, 2008
I watch things set in the desert, or in the snow, In Alaska, or Texas or Mexico, and I wonder How do people stay there? They were born there, of course. Well I was born here, but how do I stay here? I look directly out the window of my father's house and I see wind blowing our Korean neighbor's carefully tended Rose bushes, still dead. Suddenly I think how is this any better than rocks in the arid cliffs of Texas? Fuck, it's a lot worse. I'm sure an austere land like that rips the skin off your back and petrifies you, this place just sort of bleeds you out slowly. Cars go by, a lot, one of them even had really sweet rims. This country is rough on people.