Movin time

As the mumbling poet with the gloriously atrocious voice Robert Zimmerman once said, the times are a changin. I'm in the process of moving yet again. I've spent the past few days (and plan on spending most of the day today) throwing around all of my crap in the oppressive Southern heat and all I hear in my head is Tyler Durden saying "the things that you own start owning you." I'm beginning to gain a profound understanding of that concept as I haul around all of my material possessions. Speaking of profound things, I noticed something during my meanderings in Macon a few days ago that I found a bit odd. But odd in the sense that shit like this makes life worth living. Delightfully ludicrous if you will. As I was driving down one of the busiest streets in Macon I noticed a man standing near the side of the road. The man, probably in his mid-40's, with long gray hair wearing a pink polo shirt and some khaki shorts. He looked like he just finished smokin a doobie on the back nine of the public golf course(meaning that he didn't look broke but he definitely struck me as someone that liked golf but had no business at the country club). As a matter of fact he resembled The Dude from the Big Lebowski with gray hair and no facial hair. And the whole golf thing is just a hypothesis. He could like bowling. and coitus. and white russians. and nihilists. Who knows? But that's irrelevant. So this "Dude"-looking mother fucker is staring at a large "Readings by Lisa" (you know the type. The whole palm reading, tarot card, hocus pocus, hum on my crystal balls...) sign with a remarkably intense expression on his face as if he believed that he would unlock some cosmic secret if he stared at it long enough. As I drove by I wondered how long he would stand there waiting. Maybe he's still there.