Between the studio apartment hemmed in by neighbor's Guitar Hero and untoward nighttime calls, and a so-called friend recently thieving some of my intellectual property, I cry out for a kingdom of my own. Then comes Census 2010, in which all Americans are (supposedly) accounted for. The poll makes it clear you may not have a permanent location; still, you need to be counted in. From whence do I come and whither shall I go? This is the stuff of midday naps, as one gathers strength to find out how to come home.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
My Kingdom for a Kingdom
Between the studio apartment hemmed in by neighbor's Guitar Hero and untoward nighttime calls, and a so-called friend recently thieving some of my intellectual property, I cry out for a kingdom of my own. Then comes Census 2010, in which all Americans are (supposedly) accounted for. The poll makes it clear you may not have a permanent location; still, you need to be counted in. From whence do I come and whither shall I go? This is the stuff of midday naps, as one gathers strength to find out how to come home.
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