God bless America.

I just got back from spending several hours on the National Mall, watching the fireworks. It is an interesting tradition: blowing small bits of gunpowder and colorful chemicals into the sky to create incredible sparkly displays. Such beauty, for such a short time. Such fleetingly gorgeous waste.

I sometimes have a difficult time looking at the fireworks themselves and find myself staring at the smoke they leave behind. I always think it looks a little like fossilized coral, but that is because I am a weirdo who thinks fireworks smoke looks a little like dead starfish.

Last year, I was pretty sure that my neighborhood was the site of a gang war July 1-3. Now I understand: it's just exuberance, power, and a tiny bit of pyromania. Still, it's a little weird to celebrate the birth of this nation by blowing up a little bit of it. Also, it's 1:30am. I kind of thought they'd all be done by now.

Nope. Pop pop pop pop POP pop POP POP pop pop pop pop tseeeeeeerrr!

Happy independence, y'all. It's a funny old world, but I'm glad I'm in it.

I'm glad I'm here.