A Little Less Angst, A Lot More Action
It's amazing what a good sleep will do for your outlook. You fall asleep miserable and wake up, forgetting why exactly, because the sun's shining, the tunes are swimming through your stock speakers, and you're flying down the highway, full faith in the four dollars' worth of fumes you fed your whip you affectionately refer to as Wanda (the Honda) because you know she's got another thirty miles left in her once that light comes on.
She's basically your home and your best friend for all intents and purposes because she asks you no questions and tells you no lies. She loves it when you pump up the jams full blast, windows down, shamelessly fist pumping and signing out the sunroof to pop songs, directing the symphony of the road with your left hand, your cigarette a burning baton. You fancy yourself the director of this symphony you call your life.
Your life's been good to you, but you've seen more than your fair share of the shit times. Still, when you're driving like this, you have this intense focus and sense of peace, a knowingness within that you're going to end up exactly where you need to be, so you let a bare foot rest by the side view, kick back and go with the flow of the wind whipping across your outstretched hand, hair a hot mess, blowing in your face. You consider just letting it dread, but remind yourself that your mother would probably cry. You smirk at the thought of the look on her face and give it some gas, hug that turn, flying past the other drivers like it's nothing because it is, and that's why it's the greatest feeling in the world. Just you, Wanda, the music and the road.
They're all you need; that is until you get hungry, or Wanda does. You'll feed her before you feed yourself. It's a tough world but when you're kind to others, God provides. Someone nice will make you a burrito on the house and let you bum a smoke, and you'll end up having a nice conversation because that's your rule--when you bum or allow someone to bum, stop and chat with them. It's only polite and often turns into the highlight of a day--besides the driving.
Everyone has something you need to hear. That's your philosophy. You know that the news is mostly bogus. Your theory is that they only report the bad news and fluff pieces to distract you from the straight fuckery that's really occurring, the stuff the proverbial "they" doesn't want you to know. It's the quintessential good cop/ bad cop gimmick and for most folks, it works like a charm--make people fear the outside world of their comfort zones and show them something that makes them want to stick around inside all day and never reach out to forge new human bonds, interpersonal interaction fallen by the wayside. They want to keep us divided, separated by the invisible boundary lines of socioeconomic status, ethnicity and subculture.
You know you're on a mission to prove them wrong. All of them. All the people who ever said you weren't strong enough or street wise enough to get by on your own faculties. You know what you're capable of, and that's all that really matters at this point. No one can shake your confidence anymore because you know who you are and why you're here on this God forsaken rock. Just kidding. He didn't forsake it completely. He still cares. He still listens. He still provides, but you figure he must get annoyed that the peace thing hasn't worked out yet. You're probably just projecting though.
She's basically your home and your best friend for all intents and purposes because she asks you no questions and tells you no lies. She loves it when you pump up the jams full blast, windows down, shamelessly fist pumping and signing out the sunroof to pop songs, directing the symphony of the road with your left hand, your cigarette a burning baton. You fancy yourself the director of this symphony you call your life.
Your life's been good to you, but you've seen more than your fair share of the shit times. Still, when you're driving like this, you have this intense focus and sense of peace, a knowingness within that you're going to end up exactly where you need to be, so you let a bare foot rest by the side view, kick back and go with the flow of the wind whipping across your outstretched hand, hair a hot mess, blowing in your face. You consider just letting it dread, but remind yourself that your mother would probably cry. You smirk at the thought of the look on her face and give it some gas, hug that turn, flying past the other drivers like it's nothing because it is, and that's why it's the greatest feeling in the world. Just you, Wanda, the music and the road.
They're all you need; that is until you get hungry, or Wanda does. You'll feed her before you feed yourself. It's a tough world but when you're kind to others, God provides. Someone nice will make you a burrito on the house and let you bum a smoke, and you'll end up having a nice conversation because that's your rule--when you bum or allow someone to bum, stop and chat with them. It's only polite and often turns into the highlight of a day--besides the driving.
Everyone has something you need to hear. That's your philosophy. You know that the news is mostly bogus. Your theory is that they only report the bad news and fluff pieces to distract you from the straight fuckery that's really occurring, the stuff the proverbial "they" doesn't want you to know. It's the quintessential good cop/ bad cop gimmick and for most folks, it works like a charm--make people fear the outside world of their comfort zones and show them something that makes them want to stick around inside all day and never reach out to forge new human bonds, interpersonal interaction fallen by the wayside. They want to keep us divided, separated by the invisible boundary lines of socioeconomic status, ethnicity and subculture.
You know you're on a mission to prove them wrong. All of them. All the people who ever said you weren't strong enough or street wise enough to get by on your own faculties. You know what you're capable of, and that's all that really matters at this point. No one can shake your confidence anymore because you know who you are and why you're here on this God forsaken rock. Just kidding. He didn't forsake it completely. He still cares. He still listens. He still provides, but you figure he must get annoyed that the peace thing hasn't worked out yet. You're probably just projecting though.