Somewhere between little desert towns on the interstate, I stop at an all night gas station. Inside, the truckers and customers look like an unruly bunch of rednecks. I feel a little intimidated, so I try to fit in by grabbing some Cheetos and girly magazines. As I walk to the cashier, I see the truckers reading aloud from James Joyce’s Ulysess while listening to music for prepared piano by John Cage. They look at me disapprovingly as I hold the snacks and magazines. I walk back to the car feeling like a idiot when I suddenly remember something. I run back and yell the ending to Ulysses, “and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.” Those truckers beat me up pretty bad.