as in Spaulding Gr(a/e)y's 'Swimming to Cambodia' (or whatever that movie was called-- he goes into this SEARCH for the perfect moment- which for me are those strange epiphonic times when past, future and present merge and distinctions disappear and the whole pain/desire/contentedness triangle loses its jagged edges ... anyway, this time for me happens a lot at the the pump, yes, the gas pump, at night, beside the interstate, miles to go, the sound of heavy traffic roaring by on your left, surroundings are indescript enough so that if you just woke up you wouldn't know if you were in Minot, SD or Ashland, VA. That's my time, leaning on the car, watching the numbers flip gallons/dollars, a little rain maybe, I'm outta coffee, how far? where am I? what tape do I play next? 'Exile on Main Street' is almost through.
