I've been rocking out to Bing Crosby, driving that little Prius everywhere. The car of the future. But it won't stop global warming any. Tear.
I listened to some French radio station. Rudy Cayn sung a song about Guantanamo Bay. That's social commentary for you. Then some Mars Volta on full blast. Love driving that Prius.
The street signs are sporadic here. Can barely ever find the speed limit. I was confusing the route number with it and driving 25 down a 55 two-lane road. Pissed off a lot of drivers. Ha.
I usually keep the speed limit, but no one else does. Once I discovered that there are never any cops around, I began to really enjoy myself. Driving at night here is terrifying tho. No streetlights except on major roads. (There are no major roads).
The signs are also weird and unprofessional, compared to the authority of Phoenix. Blind Person. Beware! Pedestrians.
One of those tube-like ashtrays caught on fire. Some church employee tried extinguishing it with Lemon Flavored Fruit2O.
My grandpa had a meeting so he threw me the keys to his blue Chevy truck. It's Center Harbor. I have no place to go, not much money to spend. So I drove to a train station. For no reason other than unadulterated adventure.
I applied for a job working for this dismal little restaurant called Hart's. I hope I can find a better place to slave away.
I met Steve, a really overweight guy my dad has been friends with when he lived here. I think a lot of people have resentment or adoration for me just because of how well they knew my father. My father the Anarchist. The Smoker. The Rebel. It's interesting. It'll be more intense on Sunday, I'm sure.
My grandfather owns the church and he has a cellar filled with donated goods. There's a food bank and clothes, furniture, books and random bits of everything. It goes back out to the community. That includes me. Someone donated their collection of LP records. Most are boring classical music or gospel hymns, but I've found a few gems. Like Bing Crosby.
Someone donated an entire encyclopedia volume. Will people publish these in the future, with Wikipedia and About and the rest of the Internet? Wikipedia is just proving that knowledge is infinite, so I guess not. No point.
I flipped to the P's. Learned about the history of Mannerism painting. I've been reading up on the Siege of Sarajevo. Roses. Things I never learned about in school. Things I want to know.
I found a dream house. I didn't have one before. I'm not sure I'm serious about here. But this is a small town that isn't sucking me dry because it's not centered around trains or indoctrination. It's just nothing. I could live here and get things done. But I'm hesitant.
I don't fit in here at all. Not wearing my indie clothes, my fedora. My crooked haircut. Not my unfundemental anarchist value system. They give me stares. Some judgemental. Some vaguely familiar. Everyone knows me somewhere, somehow. Small town thing.
I haven't been this happy in a while. Probably since November. December. Most of January. Some Thing.
Nothing's superficial. Nothing really matters. Dreams and dreams and more dreams.
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