Chris has taken me to the desert near Joshua Tree, and is making me live in a cave made out of parachutes. WHY? It's so dark everywhere, and everyone is wearing clothes made out of garbage bags. I'm trying to escape and Chris just doesn't get what I don't love about this scene.
Finally I get out and Margaret and I go to a cafeteria to get coffee. She has been really busy and we are finally getting to catch up, so I am trying to tell her a million things at once. I've just read a huge article in the New York Times about people's addiction to therapy, and everyone in the cafeteria is talking about it, all middle-aged hipsters who are pleased to be vindicated by the mainstream media. Before I have a chance to explain to her what the buzz is all about, they all break into song about how much they love their therapy, in three-part harmony. They all know the song, even though it seems like one tall bearded guy is making it up as they go along. They are climbing on tables and chairs to semi-organized choreography. Margaret is completely perplexed. I can't believe we're in a musical theater number, except that I can. That kind of stuff happens to Margaret and me all the time.
I go to see Joshua at his new job, working at a swimming pool in Palm Springs. He drives a little golf cart around the pool area, delivering supplies and picking up odd towels and what-not. Teenage girls follow him everywhere he goes, so he has to drive really slowly. Also, because the trailer on his golf cart is filled to the top with creamed corn, and he's trying not to spill it.
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