Even better than last night's chili.

Who gives a shit about Baby Lincoln? What did he ever do? Nothing for nobody. 

I wake in the a van in the driveway of a house in a fenceless neighborhood in Eastern Kentucky and my first thought is that I’ve abducted myself.

These people are a persistently unfolding panoply of benevolence. The kind that cause you to reach for new words.

“Do you stretch your legs?” “Yeah, I walk.”
It’ll take me three days to get that. 

“Flat shod, style racking…” Donnie Nelson is talking to me about a horse. I can’t figure out where the spaces are in between whatever words these are, “What dragon?”