driving around America as much as I have has reassured me that I’m far from alone in my sad weirdness.

pent up, boxed in, and worn out.

“So what’s new with you?” I asked her. “Not much,” she said. “I tried to send some people an email picture of a kitten, but it didn’t work.... Have you ever heard of something like that?” She paused, and then said with a very heavy sigh, “Only me.” It was then that I remembered where my fatalistic penchant for melodrama came from.

the seemingly idyllic suburb I was raised in was actually filled with maniacal weirdos. My unfractured family in fact put on stunning displays of rage and lunacy.