...
I had to for a week or so....
...
Ya know, strikes me this woman is a fuckova lot older than I am, but I stripped in front of the motel mirror a while ago, headed for a HOT bath that turned out to be a HOT shower because it took the hot water so long to get here I felt I didn't want to drain Oklahoma's water supply, and... she only looks older to me because she lived so long before I did.
What a wreck.
I have been too fried to sleep. Got maybe three hours' worth and I don't know yet if I'm safe to drive. It's a case of maybe chasing down that oil change and then coming back to the motel and trying a chill pill tonight. Dunno, man. It's Oklahoma and it's Sunday....
The people here are SO nice. I keep reminding myself that it can get epic behind anyone's eyes, but everyone has been pleasant and helpful and accommodating and thoughtful. They're all almost dead of the plastic they are ingesting and I will be too if I don't get out of here, and it makes me crazy how good people are, how decent, how compassionate, how not-wanting-anything-bad-to-happen-to-anybody-ever we are... and so how did we get this from that?
...
You don't know, man, I just got back from breakfast at Marilyn's Country Cookin' and I want to marry Oklahoma and divorce it at the same time. Mostly chemical food everywhere you go, almost no chances of food closer to actual than cooked up in some mad scientist's lab, but it makes odd appearances. Like... my hash browns were made from an actual potato, and while the sausage tasted like you remember it did when you were young, it was certainly helped by a test tube to do that. No dairy products anywhere in that restaurant, nosirreebub.
I sat there and heard the most amazing conversations all around me. Mostly about what everybody was up to for Christmas. Nobody asked me, but I'd've told them I'll be driving. The lady at the table across the way from me will not speak to her husband on the phone when she's mad at him. She just texts him all day long until he relents. They're going to Florida... eighteen hours straight through.
Lots of old coots in cowboy hats. Lots of 'em with bellies that precede them by about three feet, but lots of 'em gangly and spiffed up all in black, with fancy white piping and silver beards. A middle aged woman talking animatedly to an old man, a wide smile on her face the whole time. Truckers. Truckers. Truckers.
What I should do is find one who's sick of being alone, hitch up my high tone go cart to his rig and live in his sleeping compartment for a few days... a few years. I'd be definitely quit of all the bad habits of life on earth by then.
always and any time....
