bah, just want adventure
Its eleven thirty and i have to be up and dressed for work by six forty five am. Wide awake and humored by nothing.
Eight hours earlier I was at a coffee shop filling out paper work, answering questions that i felt my doctor should be able to find out for himself. I don't remember when i received my last tetanus shot; should this be on file somewhere? All I want is what ever you got to make better. Can’t you just call that up on your screen and make a salve or tincture to rub into my furrowed brow? I would even drink some bullshit herbal tea and dance naked and inscribed with foul and low symbols, if I thought it would give me what I want.
A direction I can walk for more then one hour, a thought or an idea I can keep with out forget or forsaking before the air used to speak it has grown cold and settled in with the rest, waiting to retaken and cast out, a worthless empty sea churned by a lonely Charybdis. How she wishes to stop or at least drawn and keep something wonderful.
Seven hours prior and I've resolved to buy a new bag. Mine is falling apart in a way that allows it seem structural sound by all appearances until you've started your little feet upon the petals then i decides to sprinkle your affects like so many bread crumbs, leaving a trail of paperclips and pills across the span of the hill. Also I spilled hummus all over the inner pocket.
We to Reload bags, felt overwhelmed and under impressed. There was a couple of dude bros in front of me, looking through swatches of cloth trying to decide on a color scheme. I browsed for a moment then pretended to receive a phone call and quietly left. Not that anyone had noticed I entered anyways. The bags were very nicely done I must add, but I just want to haul groceries and books, and the whole idea of designing something beautiful on a basically utilitarian shell is a bit beyond someone that owns almost entirely mismatch socks.
I then went to the Hyundai dealer across from the old robothaus, on a recommendation from Ryan. Looked around for a second, found the display, did the chin rubbing thing as I pondered. Followed every important step, lifted the bag, secretly smell it. You know the normal actions one must take when trying to discern the value of an object; after a few minutes of this highly important spectacle, ended up buying a chrome bag in god’s second favorite color, green.
While paying I began to steel myself against my own bitter hatred of buying something that I like. One must be strong in the face of one’s own prejudices.
Stepped outside, I effortlessly popped my old bag, which I was carrying at the time (contains and all) into its successor and wore it home.
Six hours earlier I fixed my bike, nothing large just mending the few ills I can, with limited skills and a small reserve of patience for stripped bolts. The grease from the bike chain sets up in the valleys of my fingerprints. I’ve washed my hands with soap several times; still I see traces in the deeper swirls.
Five hours later and I’m on my way to band practice. I fly down Denny, weaving in and out of traffic and for a moment I want so badly to get hit by a car. And as I sail on down over the highway, I think of how the wind whipping at my eyes feels like tears.
Idle and aimless my thoughts take me through a windshield. But then there are names and faces and children and I feel awful for wanting to break that with my bones.
And then it’s gone. And it’s left a wild smile on my lips. I pulled to the curb and walked the remaining blocks.
Hours pass and I return home, a sandwich finds itself between my lips. And it is a small comfort at a time when nothing that usually captivates me will. I want so badly to just settle into my couch and watch TV. I find no flavor beyond what I add. Nothing is good enough because I am feeling more alive then normal. I wish to consume stars straight from the sky. Follow the sirens that ring out from the outlying suburbs. I was going to ride my bike in to the cool night air, but now I must sleep and I know when I wake it will be with tedium in my heart, I will marvel about my new bag, worry about calling the insurance company regarding new doctor visits, perhaps clean my house. Another day, unstoppable in its approach, already here and I can feel the blood simmering beneath the skin, commanding me to run before its approach. It will take me and my blood will cool in its dawning and i will wake up, boring and mildly attractive. The bike grease will have worked its way out, I will be tired all day long and cancel plans, only to go home and sit before my computer and have a marshmallow day, light and free of substance. Full of empty laughs and vacant rooms, safe and secure, a king of these few walls.
Maybe I won’t look both ways. On my way to work, it will be dark.