All great truths begin as blasphemies.
George Bernard Shaw
Mood:
curious
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There is nothing to read here. The content is over there, to your right.
I may, however, at some point, put something here. Some day. Eventually. No pressure.
country roads (redux)
*crosspost*
I say we quit and run.
We'll get a car, a camera and however many cd's we can grab.
Spin an empty bottle in the middle of a 4-way and drive in the direction it points.
No maps. No destination. No plans. Only a 25 cent oracle to guide us.
We'll laugh and lie and shake our heads at the histories we're bound to sneak into the conversation.
Long stretches of silence. Radio static. Windshield wipers.
Fields, forests, prairies and Kerouac's little buddhas. Photograph them all.
We'll steal a paperback at the Husky. Probably a Louis L'Amour, sorry - it was more about the thrill than the object.
"I know it doesn't have any bodice ripping, bosom heaving moments, but I'll read with my shirt off and draw dirty cartoons in the margins."
I'll let you call out her name when we fuck if you don't question whom I see when I close my eyes. It doesn't really matter because when you leave to resume living, it'll be you in my heart anyway.
Yes, you'll go home. You'll let me keep the car while you buy a pack of cigarettes for us both before you board the bus. I won't cry and you'll kiss me knowingly, sadly. Our western pulp-kama sutra will go with you because you're going into the future and will want the memory.
"Me? I'm just going to drive until I need a boat."
I say we quit and run.
We'll get a car, a camera and however many cd's we can grab.
Spin an empty bottle in the middle of a 4-way and drive in the direction it points.
No maps. No destination. No plans. Only a 25 cent oracle to guide us.
We'll laugh and lie and shake our heads at the histories we're bound to sneak into the conversation.
Long stretches of silence. Radio static. Windshield wipers.
Fields, forests, prairies and Kerouac's little buddhas. Photograph them all.
We'll steal a paperback at the Husky. Probably a Louis L'Amour, sorry - it was more about the thrill than the object.
"I know it doesn't have any bodice ripping, bosom heaving moments, but I'll read with my shirt off and draw dirty cartoons in the margins."
I'll let you call out her name when we fuck if you don't question whom I see when I close my eyes. It doesn't really matter because when you leave to resume living, it'll be you in my heart anyway.
Yes, you'll go home. You'll let me keep the car while you buy a pack of cigarettes for us both before you board the bus. I won't cry and you'll kiss me knowingly, sadly. Our western pulp-kama sutra will go with you because you're going into the future and will want the memory.
"Me? I'm just going to drive until I need a boat."
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