Riding in the back of a Chevy equinox. It’s 41 degrees and the sun is hidden behind a think grey cloak of cloud cover with hints of blue and white. Barren trees are lining the roadway with tiny hints of snow piled in between their skeleton like structures. A farm will whiz by here and there, looking lonely and weather torn, only to disappear behind me as the vehicle travels 78 miles an hour down interstate 94 in Minnesota, taking a few meanders from lane to lane and once in a while would slip over the yellow lines and slightly tickle the yellow lines. A rumble would happen, and the driver rectified and goes back to cruising, one hand on the wheel, one hand holding a can of tea.
Sitting cross-legged, I prop my arm up and take in the conversation about 80’s heavy metal and hair bands. I’m guilty of starting the conversation, which I’m happy I did. All passengers were engaged and excited about the topic. Voices raise and hands move to exemplify how much the bands meant to them. My travelling companion sits in front of me, and every once in a while I’ll glance in the side mirror to see him smile, which in turn makes me smile. He’s tough, he can be mean, but his smile will melt an iceburg. My brook, I love e him to death. I keep smiling as the topic changed to Alice Cooper.
I started the conversation talking about Lemmy from Motorhead, which sort of was a spin off from a conversation about Nikki sixx. Naturally, as we talk about musicians, the highlight of almost every musical was about an addiction that they’ve struggled with, or chose not to struggle, and what became of them.
“Everyone knew Nikki Sixx”
I thought back to Lemmy. I thought back to when I cared about keeping up with musicians. I cared about, well, everything. That slipped away, by my doing due to my desire for a rock and roll lifestyle. I’m not a rock and roll star, I cannot sustain a healthy happy life, and I sure am not going to get to where I want to be.
“People don’t read anymore. It’s a sad state of affairs. Reading is the only thing that allows you to use your imagination.”
I dream of having a tree farm. I dream of having two kids, a husband, a dog, and two outside cats. Right now, all I can think of right now, however, is being unemployed, about sixty bucks from broke, and nearly 1,200 miles from home. I couldn’t be happier, actually, I’m happier than I have been since my trip to California (and a transporter assistant, no beaches, no malls, no tourist traps, just truck stops).
Listening to the conversation, it changes to the BMW car club. I think back to where I wrote for Roundel, and it brings me down, I loved sharing my adventures. I loved getting hate mail, only because to me it meant somebody actually reads my shit. I miss being a part of the email chains with the other writers, primarily because I miss the intellect. Most of the car club members that I really connected with are friends on Facebook, but….
I’m ditching Facebook. I hate it. It’s stupid. I’m done. It has fueled my hatred towards myself and fueled my inner demons.my eating disorder would be fed a ten course meal from looking at other people who I would think is gorgeous, and that’s everyone that isn’t me, and hate myself for being so ugly. If see people that talk smack about politics and swill booze, and profess their love for a religion, and all that would make me question what I am and who I need to be. Pretty much all the things that I’m not, which in my eyes is everything. I’m nothing, I’m the scum.
“People changing because they think they should is not a good idea, because I just don’t think they should. ”
Anyways, I’m adventuring. If you have questions comments or concerns, please text to 864 three Oh four 42 eight six.