Goodbye world’s largest cedar bucket.

Goodbye Davis Maket, you who is the center of the universe, just like it says on the window. I could always count on you to be stocked to the brim with import beer, tons of porn and those little crackpipes that have roses in them. Goodbye endless rows of churches. I will miss you as much as the strip malls and plethora of chain restaurants. No more deciding between Applebee’s, O’Charley’s or Flingers. Goodbye busiest intersection in the state, even though I have masterfully avoided you for years by taking the time warp over the railroad tracks and down by that brick company. Goodbye Greenway that runs beside the stank-ass Stones River and under the overpass and behind the convenience store, where all the homeless people and swarms of gnats love to hang out. I have found many a dead animal on you. Goodbye Dodge Store, better known as the Chicken Store, since that is what they say to you in your individual speaker at the pump as you pull up for gas: “Welcome to the Chicken Store!” I am no longer a slave to your greasy pizza sticks and Jo-Jo potatoes, but there are times when I have bartered perfectly good drugs for your deliciosity. Goodbye abnormally high number of good-ass indie rock bands thanks to a state of the art recording industry program at the local university. I will miss the new breed of emo kid that blossoms as each new year arrives.

Goodbye Videoculture, you locally owned video store you, with your eclectic walls of smut and high art and anime and foreign pieces and walls dedicated to dozens of directors’ entire oeuvres. You will be irreplacable. Goodbye to my tiny apartment on East College St. where I spent days and weeks and months holed up with myself, learning to like that person a little bit. Goodbye Marti & Liz. Your designer shoes are butt-ass cheap, which totally made up for the constant gospel music over the speakers.

Goodbye Carmike Crap-plex that only ever played movies with Hillary Duff or Ben Stiller or Rob Schneider. Goodbye Uncle Dave Macon Days. Goodbye Kleer-Vu.

And Goodbye Scarecrow.
I may miss you most of all.