A Broken GPS Device (@ABrokenGPS) header
A Broken GPS Device (@ABrokenGPS) profile picture

Destination: not sure at all.

Somewhere, maybe.
Joined April 2013
Once, my baby daughter laughed at apples on a tree. A guy just glided by on a motorcycle, and it made me laugh too. Normal things are weird.
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August 26, 2014, but, also, other times behind it, each time held intact in the past, sealed in unalterable by everything that came next.
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Every building painted in brightness, The light like a color. The light like air.
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My latest Twitter project: a literary experiment in describing the same view over and over. @Office__Window. (A @New_Mexico_News spin-off.)
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Some recent comedic/sad writing from @MikeSmithofABQ. baltimorereview.org/index.ph…
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In a 1/4 mile, turn off. I'll be doing the same. It's been fun, but goodbye.
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Turn your son into a stoic but desperately insecure man through a lifetime of withheld affection. On your deathbed, say you're proud of him.
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Before I give you these directions, I just wanted to say, I hope you know how much I respect you. This friendship: it means something to me.
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Turn shifty and defensive when confonted about where you were last night. You were just at Tim's house, okay?! Call him, he'll tell you!
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Turn left on a nasty-looking oil stain on the road. Ew, it's all over your tires now. Gross. But no one's making you touch them.
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Continue north. But look! Now you're heading south! How did I do it?! MAGIC. And now, for the grand finale: a semi-truck, OUT OF THIN AIR.
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Turn left on Dfgbff Blvd. No, really. No, it is a real road! No, seriously: that's where the hospital is. Turn soon, before you're bled out.
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In a 1/2 mile, turn to stone at the Gorgon sisters. You have arrived.
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Continue east for zero miles. In 1/4 mile less than a 1/4 mile, don't turn right. Look, I'm sorry: your car is not running. It doesn't work.
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In fourscore miles, turn ye in a gentle gradation betwixt twain olde mountains, heaps of stone much like the leviathans of the ancient seas.
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I've neglected my Twitter feeds this week, but only because I have been working so intently on my memoir. My mind's in long-form mode.
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"Friends / leapin' high / and high fi-vin' / Friends havin' lots of fun! / Friends!" Instead of directions, here's a song about friends.
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Look, DID I direct you to a warehouse filled with piles of human teeth, and North Koreans who treated me like a god? Yes. But I can explain.
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