Porsche, Porsche, aaaaaand a Triple!

I was driving yesterday through the business area of Tonytown, a suburb near Smallish City. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a "Grand Opening" sign on some new business, and among the few cars in the parking lot of this business the corner of my eye picked out three Porsches. (The corners of most men's eyes are able to pick out Porsches like this-- it's similar to how the corner of the female eye can pick out Tiffany's boxes.)

Anyway I was immediately curious as to what sort of business can attract such a contingent Porsches to its parking lot, so I slowed down to look.

It was, of course, a Porsche dealership.

You'll be hearing more about Tonytown later.

In The Blue TV Screen Light I Drew A Map Of Canada

Truly, what is it with the Canadian folk singers? Why my total weakness for them? Lately it's been Joni Mitchell again. Blue, over and over again. Insidious, because I didn't even realize she was Canadian until lately. Always thought she was California-- California! I'm comin' home!-- you know? But no, it's Canada, again.

Maybe really I should move there. I don't know but that the cosmic forces may be speaking to me through my iPod.

Things That Could Really Turn A Person Into A Misanthrope

This morning I received a "Dear Dr. Turboglacier" letter from the Veterans' Administration, where I just turned down a job offer last month. I expected it to be a "It was a pleasure to meet you anyway" letter. Instead, its purpose was to notify me that a hard drive containing my name, social security number, physician identification number, and other personal information was stolen from a VA facility somehwere in Alabama. The letter urged me to [waste the entire day tomorrow calling "800" numbers in what will almost certainly be a futile attempt to] obtain my credit report from all three national credit agencies, notifiy the dedicated VA "hotline" of my whereabouts, contact some-or-other national agency to put a "fraud alert" on my credit accounts, and, in general, become anxious that my identity and finances are being actively usurped at this moment. I'm not sure if this is what the VA does to everyone who turns them down for a job, or if I just had bad luck. But it's pissing me off.

Then I came home to find that someone had stolen one of the three pots of pansies that I put out on the front steps last weekend. The pansies were really cheering up the neighborhood and making me happy. Who steals fucking pots of pansies?

In the words of Seinfeld-- "People! They're the worst!"

"...burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night..."

Howl. It's that time of the month again. Spring tide, astronomical low, full-on madness, the best minds destroyed. Such goings-on last night as I would like to say I've never seen in my years at Green Acres. But in all their violent unusualness, they are really mundane routine here.

I'm leaving Green Acres. I'm leaving June 15th. It's a been a fascinating and frustrating ride. It's time to preserve my own sanity and see what good I may be able to do elsewhere.