The answer continues to slip from my lips: No, I don't drive.
But now, you see it's a lie. I have adopted the American symbol of independence--the ability to get in your car and drive yourself anywhere. What anti-social progress.
Yep, the man at the DMV turned to me and said, Well, you made a few mistakes. But they were all big mistakes. All in all, though, you passed.
The Elliot Smith song that was in my head came to crescendo. The rain stopped pouring; it pounded instead.
Last night I went to Milwaukee (okay, Shorewood) and visited Stephanie. Her apartment smelled like incense and enviro-friendly cleaning supplies and organic fake-beef-a-roni. Elliot Smith played on her stereo. We sipped our respective beverages, and then set off to Azure Ray. The songs had no crescendos; the rain had long since stopped falling. It was perfect.