We pull off at the side of the highway in Somewhere, Maine looking to sing to the snails. There's a deep shoulder of gravel here, so we assume it to be a parking lot. The sky and the water and the ... [+]
I used to be scared of angels and the way they keep records of your thoughts, because there's things they know that I'd be unequivocally ashamed of. But at length I've come to the conclusion that all of this earthly experience is essentially just getting our wisdom teeth out, and because we don't remember our past pre-mortal existence, this is just the part where we're a little too high and talk a little too much. And those angels up there, they're having a good laugh at how high as a kite I am and recording it for some form of a heavenly Ellen show. And while I'll go a little red in the face when I watch the reruns, I'll get my halo and move on, because all we can do is keep trying.