(Post 3/5) I turned the corner and saw the spot where I consoled a friend who had just lost a grandfather. I turned another corner and I saw the house that a former girlfriend and I had sworn to live in one day. I passed the hill to the south of the baseball fields where we used to play our games and I could see my buddy’s dad standing there with a brown paper bag watching the game from 300 feet away. I stopped and spent time at my little brother’s home, we wrote songs, we recorded songs, talked about aspirations and to no avail, I tried to convince him to move to Texas—my life would be truly complete if he were here. I was also able to see my oldest and dearest friend, I met him on our first day of kindergarten, he was sitting next to me in the car wreck and he has been an example to me since the start. I spent time with another friend who is in grad school, who is editing a novel, who is traveling the country in an Airstream trailer and is arguably the most radiant person to walk this earth. I spent time with a friend who grew up in our hometown, who has spent nearly every moment of his life in the US, but now as an undocumented human being living here, he carries on with the ever present fear that any day could be his last in America—I wish every one of these visits could have been longer and I hope to see each of them again soon. I drove down the main streets and remembered the parades, the circus, the county fairs and the rodeos. I remembered my cub scout group would raise money each year cleaning up after those events and I began to despise entertainment that required so much clean up: bright lights, lots of people, too much noise, cigarettes, beer, chewing tobacco, spit, mud and the summer heat. Call it snow after Christmas day, call it fireworks on the 5th of July, call it whatever, it just doesn’t appeal to me. I turned another corner and I saw a man walking down the road. I got close enough and realized it was my dad. I pulled over by him and asked, “it’s pretty cold out, what are you doing?” He said, “It’s Sunday, I’m going to church. What are you doing?” I replied, “It’s Sunday, I’m driving around, listening to Guy Clark."