Old crispy glurt
speaking of which...
I found The Complete Mark Twain at a bookstore for a quarter, and started reading it. This man was a total genius. you always hear of Tom Sawyer, you know, but that was just a novel, and in novels you can't get away with much. Life on the Mississippi is much better, and his collected personal letters are the best of all (although it makes me feel funny reading someone else's mail. This man was annoyed by humanity, and yet he seems fascinated by daily life.. An interesting fact is that he was born with and died with Halley's Comet.
I drove up to Fayetteville to see a friend of mine, and I was astounded at the condition Arkansas has been allowed to slide into. I lived up there for about six months in 1991, and I was not too impressed with things in that corner of the state. Do you know, they must not believe in guard rails?? All these winding mountain roads, and all they have is a sign that says "8 people have died on this curve in the last year! Don't you be next!" and the top of a pine pokes up directly beyond. I suppose that would be some consolation as your car hurtles into space--that they'll be sure and change the number for you. Also, there is nothing to do..I mean, I live in Dallas, where you can find whatever it is you heart desires, wheter it be music or dancing or getting pierced or a good book-it's all here. In Arkansas, you have to go searching and improvise with what you find. Fayetteville was pretty cool in places through, I have to say. It was a nice little place to go wandering around.
AH-H-HA I love to drive. I own four cars at the moment, all of which have their different personalities and uses...the RX-7 bomb-car is the one i'm driving at the moment (for the sole reason that all the others broke down but that is not a problem.) The rx-7 is such a tactile car to drive--you can go into a heavy four-wheel-drift while changing tracks on the cd player. it never tried to be more than it knows it can be. That's really why I got it--to rag on. Now the Scirocco, since it's German, is a wonderful machine, but it has no soul. You can go really fast in it, and it's got fahrvenugen, but there is just something lacking. Front wheel drive sucks anyway, except in rain and snow. I drove the Scirocco through that huge flood we had here last year, though water up to the center wheel caps, and it growled right along with water flying all over. You just can't ask it to get wild and loose and take off its pants, because it won't do it. The Fiat, now, is Italian, so you get every little nuance of the driving experience, including slamming your knee between the door handle and the steering wheel, and barking your knuckles working on the motor. But when you get out on the highway with the top down and you feel the wind in your hair and the babes look at you as you go by....well...it's purely sexual, and isn't that what an Italian car is all about?? Sure enough.
Central Expressway is under construction--has been for years--and right
now it's a narrow four lanes that wind in and around the construction. This
is a pretty stupid thing to do, but to come of the Stemmons ramps and accelerate
onto Central in third gear sends tingles up and down my spine. It's a real,
live rush, to blow by someone tooling along, apprehensively watching the
on-ramps with their foot poised above the brake--and they that they will
never feel their blood sing as mine does when i haul the rx-7 down for a
curve that dips beneath a bridge and drop a gear to come up the other side,
engine howling ( from fifth I have to fall into third now because fourth
is on an extended leave of absence, with pay.). Maybe this is a death wish--I
don't think so, because I'm in no way suicidal...I thik it's just the thrill
that some people get out of skydiving or bungee jumping or whatever. Everyone
walks to the edge of the cliff sometimes, to peer over the edge and feel
their heart speed up a little. My cliff is Central. Absolute power corrupts...absolutely.,
even in the bomb-car.
I think I just figured out Christianity as we know it. Pretty cool, huh. The whole idea is that man is guilty of breaking God's law, and the punishment for that is death. Except Jesus was not guilty of anything, but he died anyway, therefore we are all absolved, because he didn't have to pay for his own sin. (I hate that word--I heard it toooo much when I was young.) I guess you can take that as far as you want it but that's enough for me. All that theological crap that got dumped on me in Sunday School about the "priesthood of the believer" and the Laodicean church doesn't really matter; it's really all jsut window-dressing. It makes perfectly good sense, too. I would expect a God to take a fairly logical route, since the nature that he has created is all fairly logical, too....Of course if there is no God then none of this matters, but I prefer to belive in one, just in case there really IS one. Can you imagine getting to wherever you go after you die, and finding out there really was a God after you'd discounted him? You'd be like, awwwww, crap, look at this.
Here's a dilemma. One of my good friends is doing something I consider to be --well, not smart. I want to dissuade her, but advice is like money--you never give it to your friends. I hope she reconsiders because I can see no good in it at all for her. The thing is, I can't really explain why; my intuition is just screaming bloody blue murder.
later....you know, my friends mean more to me than almost anything, and I always hope things turn out ok with them, even if they turn out to be jerks (and you know who you are, miss mooch.)
I have never in my life seen so many pathetic losers. It's all rather
shocking--people spending $500 a month just so they can chat with on-line
friends who are never what they seem to be. It's a tawdry, common place
to go. I do take advantage of their web space however hehehe. Use it or
lose it, baby.
MTV really bites. All they play are Bone Thugs 'n' something, Alice in
Chains, Nada Surf (I hate that song) and SuperDrag (I hate that song too.)
over and over and over again
I hang around here on days I have nothing to do, nights when I'm awake because I've slept too much....trying to find something to do. Maybe I walk Hugh down the rod to the gas station and get three or four bottles of Arizona Iced Tea with Ginseng and drink those up, maybe some beef jerky for Hugh. I have a weakness for those Mrs. Baird fried apple pies, too, even though they make me feel queasy. Then we walk back, and wait in the shadows by the gate for someone to drive through and open it, because I usually forget my gate card. Sometimes, walking n the night, I pass the Celica, a shadow in the dark like an old, tired dog, sleeping through the night, and I think about the good times I had in that car when I first got it, and the things we saw together. Sometimes, I see a pretty girl out with her dog in the night, and I'd go and say hi, except Hugh tends to jump up on people, and try to play with the dog, and that wouldn't make a very good first impression, I'm sure, because his paws are the size of teacup saucers.
sometimes I put six CD's in the player and fall asleep listening, and the music intertwines with my dreams, creating landscapes of my mind's creations that disappear as I awake--I used to listen to Violator and fall asleep and wake up when "Clean" began, and the music would be all I knew for a few minutes, in the dark room. There was a song on Primal Scream's CD, I can't remember what it's called, it was a remix of something after "Come Together", I think, but I would dream of that song as it played, dreaming surreal dreams as the CD turned silently on its spindle.
I drove the rx-7 the other night, from Andrew's place to mine....just driving with the wind blowing through the car, and looking up at the stars through the hole where the sunroof used to be...it ripped off a while back, but I don't care. I wish I could just float up there, somewhere in the peace between the chaos that goes on here and the violence of the stars. The night seems so peaceful, except when some fool bird thinks he's met the love of his life and starts singing in the bushes. Hugh likes it too, I think. He suffers in the sun, because he's black, and I suppose bassets were bred for cooler climates, so he doesn't like to go outside in the daytime because the sun beats down upon him and the concrete burns his feet. I'm glad he's around sometimes......sometimes he annoys me to the point of combustion, but, he's just a dog and doesn't know any better. And he's generally a good dog, one of the best I've had. He's a lot smarter than any of them, that's the truth. I enjoy walking him around after he gets a little tired and quits pulling on the leash, walking around in the night. One night we walked for a while, and then I went to bed and I let him lie on the foot of the bed, because he had his bath that day. I went to sleep, and after a while I began dreaming that I was back in school, with Mark, and Mark was snoring like he used to , across the room. Loudly. In my dream I kept telling him to shut up, shut up , good lord in heaven save me SHUT UP. Then I sort of struggled awake, and it turned out that Hugh had wriggled up beside me, and was stretched out on his back with his feet in the air, and was snoring like a human being. Love me, love my dog.
You ever wish you could be as good at something as someone else is? I used to get all hung up over that when I was younger, wishing I could attract girls or play the guitar or write, or more recently, be as creative in general, as other people I saw. I suppose it was in part just growing up, getting out of that insecure period, but it was also something my mother told me when I was very young that helped. She said that I would always be able to find someone who was better at everything I was able to do. That sounds kind of callous, at first, but I've always remembered that, because it's true. If it wasn't, then I'd be a god at something, and I'm just a normal human being (well, maybe a little better than that, heheheh). That went a long way toward my acceptance of myself as what I am, and later I also realized that I really can do anything I want, with a little work. That means, I can be better at what I want to do. Maybe not God-like, but better.
I almost wrecked tonight in the Rx-7--I took the turn from Valley View onto 635 wayyy too fast and the rear end just drifted out like it was bored and wanted to see what was going on up front. I managed to get it back under control and miss both the telepone pole and flipping the car on the curb, there, but it was a close thing. I was tripping on adrenaline so hard that I was going almost a hundred by the time I got on the highway and realized what I was doing. I was like, I don't want to die in this piece of crap. Then I was like, I don't want to die, period. Then I slowed down, which I should have done way back there where the sign said SLOW DOWN STUPID OR YOU"RE GONNA CRASH. If I had crashed, I would have been floating over the mangled wreckage going, what was I thinking? I died in the Rx-7. How ignominious. If I gotta die in a car crash, at least let it be in the Fiat, please God, at least let me go in some kind of style. I'd even settle for my dad's Fleetwood.