Eight Hundred Miles For You. Eight Hundred Miles For Me. What Can I Say? It's Not So Hapless. It's Not So Harsh. I Can Take It. So I Sit On The Porch And I Listen To Traffic. I Read The Paper. This Is Water. This Is Wood. This Is Your Living Room. This Feels Good. Half Fiction, Half Documentary. I'm Right On. No. I Don't Know. There Is Distance More Than Miles. But Our Ideas Are Adjoining Canals.