If You Put Somebody On

Success, Like Fashion, Is A Fickle Companion And Can Leave One In The Wink Of An Eye.

Louisiana Is A Fresh-air Mental Asylum.

I Also Believe My Home State Is Cursed By Ignorance And Poverty And Racism, Much Of It Deliberately Inculcated To Control A Vulnerable Electorate. And I Believe Many Of The Politicians In Louisiana Are Among The Most Stomach-churning Examples Of White Trash And Venality I Have Ever Known. To Me, The Fact That Large Numbers Of People Find Them Humorously Picaresque Is Mind Numbing, On A Level With Telling Fond Tales Of One's Rapist.

Then The Sun Broke Above The Crest Of The Hills And The Entire Countryside Looked Soaked In Blood, The Arroyos Deep In Shadow, The Cones Of Dead Volcanoes Stark And Biscuit-colored Against The Sky. I Could Smell Pinion Trees, Wet Sage, Woodsmoke, Cattle In The Pastures, And Creek Water That Had Melted From Snow. I Could Smell The Way The Country Probably Was When It Was Only A Dream In The Mind Of God.

Is There A Design In The Events Of Our Lives? Or Do Things Just Happen, Much Like A Junk Yard Falling Down A Staircase? If It's The Latter, How Do You Deal With It?