(no subject)
the little orange arrow points to 45 on my speedometer. then to 50. 55. 60. the little yellow reflective bumps are racing across my windshield far faster then they should be. the music changes to something smoother, steel guitar, i think, plays some alt-country riff and a man sings about a letter he wrote to someone.
left on sunrise.
the arrow starts dropping because i catch up with a car painted some awful shade of yellow...and even through the thick smoke trickling off of the end of the cigar i am indulging, i can tell that the man driving it wishes a lot of things, and probably doesn't get many of them.
left on craycroft.
the city lurches into view. and through all the lights i see some strange pattern and it makes me think. i start writing this in my head. i look down and see a poorly framed photograph of a boy in just jeans asleep in a messy room. i smile, naturally, and someone inside my radio starts playing a tambourine.
pass river.
i think about the boy lying there. us both with our pants too tight and our eyes too wide. launching off loud-whistling rockets into space and writing songs about pirates. making each other laugh and think; the two best things one can be stimulated to do. all the things i learn from him and teach him. all the things that aren't possible when he isn't around. the one who makes this town bearable.
pass prince.
a siren screams by...telling me i better move to the right or someone, somewhere else, is going to die. i do, and sneak back into the lane.
right on grant.
i pass the pet store and wish it was open. i pass dunkin' donuts and wish they weren't open because i stop there and the sugar coated grease that i consumed is what is keeping me awake enough to tell you all this.
now a woman in my radio is singing about a dog, i think. she keeps her voice low and honest, which i like. someone is playing an old fender rhodes piano behind her, maybe its her. probably.
so, tucson, after 17 years of a constant battle, you've finally won.
parker and i decided tonight to stay in tucson for another year. after much research, that is probably the best plan. so, parker, here's to another year of wight belted snobs and omron fans. maybe we'll start a band. maybe we'll do something spectacular.
probably not.
right on country club. right on terra alta. right on crest. i take the corner a little too fast. what else is new. i pull into the driveway just as the man in my radio starts singing again. right before i take the key out of the ignition, he reminds me to live each day as if it were my last.
i think that's pretty good advice.
left on sunrise.
the arrow starts dropping because i catch up with a car painted some awful shade of yellow...and even through the thick smoke trickling off of the end of the cigar i am indulging, i can tell that the man driving it wishes a lot of things, and probably doesn't get many of them.
left on craycroft.
the city lurches into view. and through all the lights i see some strange pattern and it makes me think. i start writing this in my head. i look down and see a poorly framed photograph of a boy in just jeans asleep in a messy room. i smile, naturally, and someone inside my radio starts playing a tambourine.
pass river.
i think about the boy lying there. us both with our pants too tight and our eyes too wide. launching off loud-whistling rockets into space and writing songs about pirates. making each other laugh and think; the two best things one can be stimulated to do. all the things i learn from him and teach him. all the things that aren't possible when he isn't around. the one who makes this town bearable.
pass prince.
a siren screams by...telling me i better move to the right or someone, somewhere else, is going to die. i do, and sneak back into the lane.
right on grant.
i pass the pet store and wish it was open. i pass dunkin' donuts and wish they weren't open because i stop there and the sugar coated grease that i consumed is what is keeping me awake enough to tell you all this.
now a woman in my radio is singing about a dog, i think. she keeps her voice low and honest, which i like. someone is playing an old fender rhodes piano behind her, maybe its her. probably.
so, tucson, after 17 years of a constant battle, you've finally won.
parker and i decided tonight to stay in tucson for another year. after much research, that is probably the best plan. so, parker, here's to another year of wight belted snobs and omron fans. maybe we'll start a band. maybe we'll do something spectacular.
probably not.
right on country club. right on terra alta. right on crest. i take the corner a little too fast. what else is new. i pull into the driveway just as the man in my radio starts singing again. right before i take the key out of the ignition, he reminds me to live each day as if it were my last.
i think that's pretty good advice.