So, my family is leaving me...for a night. Gabe is in Arizona with his dad and Jil is going out with her friends. I am at home with: The Ramones, Nancy Sinatra, a drink (which is Evan Williams--the poor man's Jack Daniels--and Coke), our cat O.C., (heretofore known as Kitsee) and Taxi Driver, which I will be watching in a couple of hours. After I post a few more notes about life...outside The Village.
A word about The Village. If anyone saw The Village by M. Night Shyamalan, it's a dog poop of a movie but has one weird little twist (spoiler coming): these folks that live in a 19th century village (they have actually chosen to live a non 21st century lifestyle--they farm, build their own houses, no electricity) but when one of the villagers goes outside of the fence, she realizes that she lives in present day New York.
Now, if you have lived in Utah County, you know that it has it's own weird little world. My brother lives in that world. My sister lives there. My parents live there. They exist in a high walled, sealed off, sterilized existence that consists of: Old Navy clothing, bleached hair tips and people going to Starbucks, not to get coffee, but to get hot chocolate. Yee haw.
So, for those of us who live outside of the Village, these are dispatches from the frontlines of the cultural hub of this great state. Some think the cultural hub exists in Sanpete County at Graceland West, but this is not so.
The epicenter of all things worth a shit starts...here.