Tuesday Feb 18, 2003

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Tuesdays aren't nearly as fun as any other day of the week.

I have the irresistable urge to travel right now. Just get up and go. Probably because I have about a million things tying me down...and not the kind of tying me down that I prefer. shocked

I'm also getting sick of my feminist classes. I have so many of them and so much overlap that I'm ready to just give up and go running off into the forest.

Tell me a story, I'm bored and have nothing interesting to say.
_S

tic_tac_toe:
Karl and I made our way down the gravel road straight and sure, the pallid, bright headlights of his pickup truck slicing through the night with a great effort, as though the darkness surrounding us wasnt very accustomed to being interrupted so severely. It seemed to be putting up a kind of resistance; the casts of the elderly F-250s headlights werent piercing into the blackness quite as far as they should have, though the evening was clear and dry and littered with stars.
Karls usual GPC cigarette dangled from his lower lip out of the corner of his mouth, and he occasionally flicked its ashes out of the window. We were both silent, eyes fixed straight ahead, focused totally on the task at hand. The forest rose up against us on each side, crashing past in an endless blur of twigs, leaves and branches. He must have been doing at least eighty, but I didnt bother glancing at the speedometer for verification, since it was broken. The fuel gauge was busted too, but Karl had three gallons of emergency gas stashed in a trio of rusty cans clattering around back in the bed of the pickup. It was a good thing, too, since we had traveled at least a hundred miles and I had only once seen anything resembling a service station--and it had looked boarded up and haunted.
The thing is, Karls voice suddenly growled up over the thunder of the Ford's engine. This country may all look the same to a novice, but a lifetime out here brings out the subtleties. He looked over at me, and I gaped right back at him. It was the first time he had spoken at all throughout the entire journey. I couldnt help but be surprisedit was almost as though the dashboard itself had begun to talk to me. You learn, boy, he continued, his eyes remaining locked with mine. Its like a miner sniffin out gemstone veins from dirty clay. You learn that theres nuggets buried somewhere inside every piece of shit.

-how's that for you? it's from an untitled short story that I just started this afternoon and haven't yet finished...

[Edited on Feb 19, 2003]
tic_tac_toe:
re: Black Heart Procession...what do you think of their latest record?

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