I had a great weekend walking through the ghetto of Indianapolis. There were bars with security bouncers and daytime chicken limos and steakhouses. Steam came from manholes and added to the feeling of urbanization with its cracked sidewalks, cool buildings, and police everywhere. It was dirty. It was liberating. It made me want more time. It made me laugh and tell stories. I ate fried mush at a Waffle House. I shopped for tattoos. I painted my face with blue eyeshadow from a CVS. Everything felt dirty and then I flew over the Midwest countryside in a window seat and watched the trees go by everywhere. All filled with pipe dreams and reality.