So this past Tuesday I flew to Cleveland, OH – smack dab in the heart of the Midwest. The cold, grey, drizzly Midwest. Sunshine? Ha! The Midwest scoffs at sunshine, that’s for West Coast vegetable eaters. Eternal bleakness punctuated by a cold & steady drip. drip. drip. Water torture at it’s finest – each drop more crafty then the last as it sneaks down your collar and attempts to steal your soul. Ah, nostalgia.
On a related note on the plane ride from Denver to Cleveland I begin the book Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. What the hell was I thinking. Before I finished first page I had come to the conclusion that I will never be cool enough to understand this book. Now I’m a huge fan of free association, but seriously, damn. How many drugs I would have to do before this thing makes sense? (Seriously, I’m curious.)