From the eye of the potato...

I suppose the romance has worn thin. Perhaps it is time to abandon life and its incremental perturbations in a tiny village somewhere outside of an almost city in a frontier state without means or design. At the very least I should abandon nomenclature that in any way seeks to glorify said existence.

For example, Oracle is truly just a boundless scrappy town whose line of demarcation runs through its center. American Avenue is a bleak winding throughfare called where one finds most of Oracle's businesses sitting in cinderblock shells – sometimes stuccoed – dotted every half mile or so. Maybe a little over half are open, many of those with faded/peeling or hand-painted signs. There are no sidewalks, just a dusty unshaded path that disappears in parts.

There is a kind of sloth that settles in .. a slow way of speaking that exposes an unvarying lassitude and a general lack of interest with the details, sometimes masked as irony.