Memphis can be a rough place to live. All of the times I have moved away from this city, middle finger waving it goodbye as my car headed in any other direction, I swore I would never come back. Repeatedly.
What am I doing right this minute? Sitting on a porch in Midtown, already feeling the throes of horror that the humidity of the Dirty South will be throwing at me later this spring and in the forthcoming summer, and thinking of the situations and the people in this place that I seem to be a part of.
The more I think about it, the more I focus on my friendships and my familial situation and the guys who have come in to my world, seemingly interested but actually superficial, the more I am thisfuckingclose to getting up, putting whatever shit I can into my Elantra, and telling Memphis and all that goes along with it that it can fuck itself yet again, throw that bird up again, and drive... hoping this time that the Mississippi River actually does overflow and wash away all the shittiness in this town and all the shitty people in it.
