Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Casually Smashed to Pieces

road journal in no particular order:

june of july when summer starts. It used to be when school ends - is summer. simple enough. now we pack bags and load the truck for camping or some disney world bullshit. stock up on explosives; fire- crackers, mortar shells, bottle rockets - the 4th. charcoal for the grill, bright red cooler stocked with bagged ice .

I like the road at medium distances. the great lakes and oceans blue. I like mile high cliffs and smokey mountains the peaks and valleys and her curves. anywhere. anywhere with you. I try to count the orange trees. they fly by in a hazy blur, im doing 85 or 88 mph. bugs hit the windshield with a Thump.Thump. Splat. Florida presents one the most boring of drive. flat awful roads; the occasional road kill. skies can open and pour down on you in a blink of an eye. torture you with black and grey and wet. Yes, there is lightning, more strikes than any state in the union. As suddenly blue skies, birds singing. all in all the surroundings near and far are not much for recalling. drink your fluids, check your gauge for overheating.

high noon mind numb with motion and vibration. It's not long before the sun drops off a western horizon. keep the radio playing loud, keep driving, keep taking mental notes. Are those mountains or clouds up ahead? Is that the ocean im driving into.. the abyss? tricks and illusions. Im not cut out for long distance. she kisses me awake with sugary redbull kisses. Im vaguely aware of She & Him playing from the tiny dashboard speakers- it seems to fit my mood now, fit this road and hour, twang and whisper and zooey eyes. I start to fade again. Half asleep I pull into a small motel, single level maybe 15 rooms. serene, half cozy half dirty. neon pink screaming Vacancy and cold a\c. In the dawns early light the office window is fogged with condensation. a glow creepy and inviting.


The gas light has been on for the last 30 miles. So now I m pumping gallons of fuel into the tank. road weary with a slight Red Bull buzz. I like motels with window shaker a\c's units. the soothing hum and glow of vending machines that for 2 dollars can dispense me ice cold Mountain Dew. A motel that suffers through the off season months, through the hard times. like these. a motel so rightly fucked in and fucked up. Over chlorinated pool that burns my eyes and tingles my skin. A hard pillow and hard cock and two fingers in her mouth. scream. moan. It's okay. We ain't from around here and we aint never coming back.

june of july how wonderful to be alive and able to write this. running out of ink and out time. she calls for me to hurry it up, there's a nasty storm coming from the South. Get back in the truck, get back in and just drive. drive. drive.

She & Him - Thieves (BBC)

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