(no subject)
So, this is what I want (I want all the punks to take to the streets, playin' their guitars...) from life.
At least, this is what I think I want to try.
I want to start in a mid-August, year 20??, and go as long as my will and the rails take me. I want to become a tramp, or rather, a train hopper. I want to catch a ride out to the midwest, out to the open plains and prairies. I want to have a grey mutt pup named Etch that wears my worn dirty navy bandanas. I'll wear gloves without fingers and clothes that need a good wash. I want to find a freight train and climb into an empty car with my pup. We'll fly down the metal streets at 60 mph and watch cottontails and wheat bend at the hiss of the clicking brakes. I want to watch mountains shake and carve out the sky like nature's EKG. I want to braid my hair and eat off the land. I'll buy a mandolin and play for pity change, I'll paint on driftwood and sell them at $30 a piece on street corners. I'll use the money to feed myself, wash myself and my clothes, and feed my dog. I'll teach myself how to use my internal compass, how to play instruments, how to sing to the setting sun. I will want company. It could get lonely out on the rails for too long of a time. I'll come home from time to time, yet I'll make friends on the roads and always have a place to sleep. I want to get tattoos that I won't regret and drink whiskey to wind down. I'll sit around campfires with American vagabonds and tell stories. I'll get my hair cut and my feet wet in tiny creeks in Southern Alabama listening to the hum of fireflies. I'll chase dragonflies and collect pebbles to skip across the salt lakes in the West. I could ride the train just to feel wind between my fingers and see solidarity.
I'll go to college, I'll learn. But, this is what I want.
At least, this is what I think I want to try.
I want to start in a mid-August, year 20??, and go as long as my will and the rails take me. I want to become a tramp, or rather, a train hopper. I want to catch a ride out to the midwest, out to the open plains and prairies. I want to have a grey mutt pup named Etch that wears my worn dirty navy bandanas. I'll wear gloves without fingers and clothes that need a good wash. I want to find a freight train and climb into an empty car with my pup. We'll fly down the metal streets at 60 mph and watch cottontails and wheat bend at the hiss of the clicking brakes. I want to watch mountains shake and carve out the sky like nature's EKG. I want to braid my hair and eat off the land. I'll buy a mandolin and play for pity change, I'll paint on driftwood and sell them at $30 a piece on street corners. I'll use the money to feed myself, wash myself and my clothes, and feed my dog. I'll teach myself how to use my internal compass, how to play instruments, how to sing to the setting sun. I will want company. It could get lonely out on the rails for too long of a time. I'll come home from time to time, yet I'll make friends on the roads and always have a place to sleep. I want to get tattoos that I won't regret and drink whiskey to wind down. I'll sit around campfires with American vagabonds and tell stories. I'll get my hair cut and my feet wet in tiny creeks in Southern Alabama listening to the hum of fireflies. I'll chase dragonflies and collect pebbles to skip across the salt lakes in the West. I could ride the train just to feel wind between my fingers and see solidarity.
I'll go to college, I'll learn. But, this is what I want.