I stopped at a light in downtown Dallas, and realized that 19 years ago, I was struck by a hit and run driver at that light. No serious harm done, only property damage, but the memory made me feel strangely at home. I then got lost on the way back to my office.
I notice my journal has become an endless CD-fest ever since I got the car with the CD player. Today I indulged vanity first hand by giving a listen to this album called "Gurdonark--Vibrating Electric Fields". It's good to hear that it lived up to the absurdly low standard I had set for it, causing me a secret delight I hereby make public in this journal. I think that sometimes it's good to share a secret delight. I fantasized about a new project, focusing on the least musical of my instincts. Working title: "the bean-can sessions".
But now I must run to Federal Express, to deposit the "other rush" into the hands of capable people who imagine the best way to California is to go east to Memphis.