Gabriel Fleming is out of town, working on Kelly Reichardt's follow-up to Old Joy, which critics creamed their pants over but I have not yet seen.
I have been put in charge of moving Gabriel's car on street-cleaning days. On those days, it can be very hard to find parking and I end up driving around in that thing for hours—zooming on the highway with the wind in my hair, ending up at the grocery store or post office or the other side of town, and hugging corners tighter than the Paul Frank underwear that's suctioned to my cheeks right now.
The car is a Volkswagon Jetta TDI, which is so environmentally friendly that it runs on biodiesel fuel that's comprised of vegetable oil, animal fats, and other sources. It also gets nearly 50 miles per gallon, which means my, ahem, "accidental" wayward trips will be hardly noticeable once Gabriel gets back. Right? RIGHT!?
If Gabriel sees this entry, he will press me to stop driving his car around or at least try to get me to convince him that I'm just joking about it all (am I, Gabriel, am I?), but he doesn't read my blog. You see what happens when you don't read my blog? I steal your shit! Ha ha ha ha ha!