but I'm always the host."
-Counting Crows "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby"
The fog is thick and damp and it is beading up on my windshield as I motor West on I-40. It is early in the morning and I’m on my way home from work. The mist caught me by surprise rolling off the river and into this valley. There is something weightless and timeless about being in a dense fog. Motion seems to cease and sound is distorted and muffled, as if I have taken a left turn into the pages of a bad English novel. There is blood on my pants and I'm pretty sure it isn't mine.
Up ahead there is the glimpse of taillights. Red and fading away from me like the backpedaling eyes of a playful demon they appear and disappear as if by magic. I start to chase them. I want to catch the lights, those eyes, before I get home. I begin to think my sanity depends on it.
“Can you hear me now?” I ask my brother. It is 5am in his part of the world and he is awake feeding an angry and embittered child. He calls me to share the experience.
“YES! I can hear you. Don't yell. You have to trust the Bluetooth headset or just not wear it. Is it that little crack pipe looking one they sell with your iPhone?”
“How do I sound? Is my voice crisp and authoritative? Is there any static on the line? Can you tell I’m already drunk? I need the sort of advanced technology that lets me remain inebriated throughout the day yet allows me to sound urbane and knowledgeable.”
“No static and NO you DON’T sound drunk. That is one sweet phone. It might even be worth the $500 you paid for it.”
“$600” I correct him. “I was an early adopter.”
“Hey, play some music. How does Miley Cyrus sound on that thing?” my brother asked. “I bet even SHE sounds good on that phone.”
“Nope. She still sucks. Even Apple can’t fix her.”
“When does she reach the age of consent anyway?”
“Dude! That is borderline inappropriate.”
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