|
|
That's the code of choice on the timecard, this dead-in-the-water week. Great corporate camouflage... open to wide interpretation. Since there's nothing to do, "unscheduled" fits. "Maintenance," yeah, well, I'm maintaining. Only just. Aucunes challenges. The sun finally made an appearance just before my incarceration. No time to put the top down, but I made my way west with the windows down... just to get the wind in my hair. I drove through the "Stepford" where I used to overnight... Jesus, what a spooky situation. If you look hard enough, there's a small town in there, somewhere. General store, a collection of frame houses, an old gas station. Old-school Virginia. Swallowed up in the belly of the whale... the whitebread Yuppie whale. Coffee chains, health spas, sporting goods... in what was the middle of nowhere. The dream escape from the evils of the city... which they are bringing with them. You can run, but you can't hide. The biggest crackup... the street names that have no bearing on anything resembling where they are. No doubt, there's a program somewhere, designed for scorched-earth developers, that builds those jive-ass names. Good source for another senseless collection of photos, I'm thinking. Well, I've maintained... my schedule says, time to scoot. |
|
|
