Thursday, July 7, 2011
I felt like there had been a conspiracy with the conspirators feeling very happy with themselves with how the integrity of their intentions was upright and noble and they really only wanted the best for me in a tough situation. But I had been in the dumpster for three hours, waiting. A man’s mind can move in tight spots like that: uncovering the secret plots of those who are too close. I didn’t fully understand what I was waiting for, or how those who were responsible managed to do it. But these were small matters. I believed the shredded bills under my left foot might hold important clues. I was beginning to get hungry and wished I had chosen a dumpster behind the food court.