And it was after only that first time that he was forced to move that he resolved himself to the habit of moving- and in doing so he learned a lot of pointless shit that he can't help but now carry with him; like always order thai food and coffee to-go, even if you plan on eating in, because they put more food in the box than on the plate and there's that last refill for the road. That popular franchises have the cleanest bathrooms and no one in the place gives even the remotest shit whether or not you buy something. That at some point the guy that sits alone at the bar, is known by the bartender, and who never fails to strike up a conversation will, at some point, offer sexual favors, or to sell you illegal if not un-prescribed drugs. That sometimes a guy in an Ihop who lives in his Buick Rendezvous just needs to sit with you and lie out loud a bit, to see if what's been rattling around in his head for so long holds weight in the shared reality of space in front of his face. And that it's not always our job to call bullshit on a stranger who can't make perfect sense of the puzzle his brain is putting together; that the Facts of the story just-don't-make-no-sense ain't none of our really concern; that sometimes just shutting the fuck up is the purpose we are to serve. That when you lay under the stars on the still warm hood of your car and pass over in your mind all of the shit- right, wrong, good, bad, awful, sad- that you drum up sometimes the only friends you've ever had; and they're just a bunch of memories. That it don't much matter if you win or lose or get cancer or have Aids because you can find no way out of this Thing that doesn't involve infinity; and so you have but the one choice, to just let all that shit go- the loneliness, the guilt, the shame, that what you did wasn't right, that who you are is just plain wrong- and somehow you do and for a moment it is, okay...and then you forget almost as immediately as you'd remembered...and you fall asleep again, only a little colder now.