paradise paved
while at home for thanksgiving i took my grandmother to see “bee movie.” we drove 10 miles to the 30 screen cineplex that stands alone in the center of a massive parking lot right off route 88 - a toll road that connects illinois to interstate 80 - the highway that runs smackdab through the middle of the coutnry, from san francisco to new york city. the movie was whatever. i feel asleep for the second half.
afterwards we drove 10 miles to a different strip mall (my grandmother calls them “plazas”, charmingly) to eat at “charlies,” an americana-themed “ale house.” while we waited for our poison food, i showed my grandma how to text message. then “big yellow taxi” came on the closed-circuit radio. only instead of joni mitchell it was a shitty cover whined by some guy with an affected, empty voice.
as he sang “pave paradise and put up a parking lot,” i looked around to see if anyone else was grasping the irony. nope. i had a beer.
the american dream is a nightmare to me. a hilarious nightmare.
