Doing Census verification and driving down  poor streets, lots of  dirt on the side, and azalea bushes in front of  every termite-infested  wooden board house. Grassy spots to pull off the  road, places to find  an address and check it off on my hand held  computer to be GPS’d up to  the sats. And to make a written note about a  mental image. A mental  image conjured from the classic rock on the  radio. Here:

Listening to radio  commercials … “spectacular deal on this clean  2007 Cadillac … come on  by, free food, hamburgers, hot dogs, drinks …  take a look”. It’s like  watching a television show where the actors  believe, the characters  believe, that they’re in the real world, that  the clean Cady and hot  dogs are it.  And I think, where does that leave  me?

Where indeed, in driving, in living and  dying and breeding and  eating? I can’t change channels because every  station is that world,  the real one. I’ve been like this for years and  my psychosis becomes  more pronounced with time, with more and more hot  dog sounds and clean  cars. And theme park billboards. Read the rest of this entry

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