And Now We're Ten Years On...

in Los Angeles. The U-Haul puttered in on the 10 from Vegas ten years ago on the Fourth. Big D always seemed to find that symbolic. I never got it. Still not sure what it all means or if it even should. But I thought it worthwhile enough to mention, so there you have it. Never thought I'd still be here. If you asked me ten years ago as I was unpacking into my bungalow in Los Feliz where I would be today I would have said, or at least thought, some mud hut in Africa or a houseboat on the Huong River.

Two Confessions

I hate the Fourth of July. I hate everything about it. I particularly hate fireworks, stars and stripes paper tableclothes and napkins from Walmart, not to mention red, white, and blue cups, paper plates, and plastic utensils. In fact, the Fourth of July reminds me of Walmart. I hate Walmart. Driving by Walmart gives me a panic attack. Walmart reminds me of the Fourth of July. Crappy beer, crappy bbq, crappy chips, and crappy desserts. I just hate them both-Walmart and The Fourth of July. Does that make me a bad person? A bad American? So be it. I have to be me.