The recent white hot intensity of Truth that came forth in my confession about living in the Garbage Can Perched on the Top of a Building is just the start of a new approach to sharing about my life.
I admit that there has been some falseness on my part. That is why I am trying to purify the representation of myself and even the arts that I consume, which will ultimately shape how I see myself and the world.
Who talks about the life I live? I mean all of the sudden watching reruns of Dallas, feels false. Going through my DVD's and CD's a lot is going to have to go.
In the end, all I may have left is the Boss.
Who else talks about things like driving along and thinking that the axles of your car are breaking because you have just heard a loud Snap from the rear of your car, followed by a very strange echoing metallic sound, followed by a moderate loss of control of your car?
(If that was an episode of Dallas, I missed it. Which I didn't, because I have seen every episode.)
Only to have the Tire Repair Specialist tell you that what happened is in fact that there was somehow a screwdriver in the tire, and that no it would take too much force for some other fourth quadrant blogger who is jealous of you to jam the thing in, that it must have just been the kind of freakish accident that occasionally happens to Us Salt of The Earth Folk in the Good Ol' U.S. of A.
Down here in Jungleland.
