I'd Like to Be a Non-Starving Artist, Please!

As promised on my kickstarter page, here is a sampler of my book, How to Fly with Rocks in Your Pocket.  So, please, dear friends, help me get the rest of it published!  Also, this is not the final final final draft, so I reserve the right to change anything before publication.  I hope you all like it.

"Across the fields was a geometric line of clouds engaged in a much more vigorous rainfall than the uncommitted drizzle that was causing my windshield wipers to squeak.  I remember scoffing at it, this perfect symbolism.  Like something out of a high school English teacher's wet dream, there it was: a linear reminder that that day so ultimately separated the past and the future.  I crossed a couple of county lines, the highway changed from two lanes to four, and exit signs started to display not one, but up to five fast food placards.  Stripped of former industrial prowess, prosperity in this area can now be measured in the number of choice in retailers whose product will clog arteries with the least amount of effort.  Dying a few years younger is perfectly palatable if it tastes like bacon cheeseburgers.  Don't try to understand if you're not from the heartland.  If things here always made sense, the name of my hometown, Ravine, wouldn't be pronounced Ray-vonn, and I would have taken the exit that meant two less traffic lights before home.  But driving through Plodis, the city to which Ravine is a suburb, was never an uplifting activity.  On that day, I did not want to see ragged teddy bears stapled to utility poles as makeshift memorials.  I did not want to see the Ravine police expelling homeless people from the bike path beside the river.  That day, there was something vaguely comforting about the chemically-treated lawns and spandex-clad young mothers pushing jogging strollers in front of them.  After the previous day's events, my usual disdain for their impossibly skinny thighs and well-dressed infants was replaced with something reminiscent of warmth."