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The Farmington Canyon Story, where the moral is to slow down and wear your seatbelt

Farmington Canyon, Utah, around 10 years ago.

One of the first semi-serious girlfriends I ever had - let's call her Alice - had a really wonderful family, and we all got along famously.

They were work-hard, play-hard, really good people. They were Catholic, and there's sort of a Catholic solidarity in Utah, especially out in the suburbs.

Utah is overwhelmingly of the Mormon religion, and most non-Mormons feel stifled by it.

Now, as I get older, I come to appreciate the Mormon religion more. They're big believers in family, self-discipline, good habits, service, hard work and lots of reflection. But some of the rules are rather stifling to non-Mormons - no drinking, no smoking, no caffeine, no R-rated movies. Also, they're incredibly warm and friendly people, but at least in Utah, there's an undercurrent of being wary about associating too closely with non-Mormons outside of trying to convert them.

A Day in the Life of Jade

On Poems of the Bird

If there ever was a day to drink 4 cups of coffee in one sitting, this was it.

Welcome to Jade’s world. Where living alone was like having a me party every day. Except you were lonely because you lived alone. Jade had stayed up all night before doing paperwork with her good old friend wine. Alcohol was the only thing that could keep her awake.

“Welcome to Sox News. Blah blah blah, terrible stuff, terrible stuff, terrible stuff, woe misery and misfortune,” said the television. Jade turned off the T.V. She was already depressed and didn’t need to hear anymore bad news. She knew the world was fucked up; so why did the media feel the need to harp on it?

Jade grabbed a cigarette and lit it. Like she fucking cared if her landlord didn’t want her smoking in her apartment. She worked for the CIA, didn’t she? The comforting sound of her lighter filled the silence. The phone rang and jade stumbled over to her cell, puffing out the sweet smoke. It was Ria.

“What,” jade mumbled.

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