My Blog List

Sunday, September 28, 2014

=Urbandale, IL to Austintown, OH=





The point in a blow job when he pushes your face hard into his grinding crotch and orders you to take all of it and you wonder if it's just playful sex-talk or if he is really asking you to do the impossible because you've already taken all of it. Exit 31. Because he sure sounds serious, he sure sounds angry. What if you've taken all of it and he's still not happy? What if he isn't satisfied? Indiana Dunes. National Lakeshore. South Bend 48 miles. Slower Traffic Keep Right. Daddy?

Emergency Stopping Only.

Michigan City. Westville. The only thing left to say about human beings is what it is actually like to be one. 

The things no one wants to admit. The things no one wants to hear.

Somewhere in western Indiana an hour disappears just because they say so. The way one's mind can drift off with a cock in one's mouth. You come back to yourself at the moment of orgasm. Is that what it means to be in the present when all is said and done? Orgasm? On the radio: Born to be Wild. Diesel Lanes. Food and Fuel. Wind rocking the car. Collapsing farm buildings. Mishiwaka. Elkhart. Exit 92. Notre Dame 2 miles.

Holy Cross College.

Niles.
Plymouth.
11:42pm.

Exit 77. EZ Pass Only. $5.99 Take-a-Bake Pizza. Pick-up Trucks Wanted. Big & Tall Shop. Bristol 11. Goshen 21. RV/Motor Home Museum. Actia. Constantine. Middlebury. Meijer. Shop for more. Shoppes at Fremont. Crampton Road. Eat Like You Mean It. Historic Howe Military School and Chapel. Motorcycle Injury? Call the man with the bike. Brooners Christmas Wonderland. 

Angola.
Toledo.

Finding terrorists sexy. 

Emergency Stopping Only.
Breakdown Lane.

Bullwinkle Mooselem.

Argon refrigerated liquid.
Cedar Lake golf course.

The humility of acknowledging you'll never be as good as Virginia Woolf or Samuel Beckett. The egomania that is revealed by making such an observation an occasion for a display of humility.

Corn, just not as much of it, or as often.

Orlando switching sexes in the middle of his life in the middle of the novel Orlando.

Check brakes. Welcome to Ohio. So much to Discover. Entering Williams County. Fasten Safety Belts. Cash Accepted All Lanes. Reduce Speed.

Abandoned barn faded to the color of surrounding fields but still clinging to the memory of once being red. Move over for stopped vehicles.

Two silos, one slightly taller than the other. Corn in a light rain. 

Entering Lucas County. Speed Limit 50. Yield. Corn; are we never done with corn? Ohio Turnpike Emergency dial *990. Toledo Airport. Swanton 1/2 mile. Exit 52. Pampas grass, the corn of the northeast. Maumee 5 miles. 

Why does it have to be an emergency to park here? Why wait for things to get that bad? 

Another pen out of ink and what to show for it? This? Ha! Everything, sadly, comes to eventually look like New Jersey. Addressing the reader directly from the middle of the text. Greetings, dear reader. I wanted to address you directly because to tell the truth you have not been very much on my mind while writing this text. It's not that I feel any animosity towards you. But the presence of you in my mind as I write would only hamper what it is I really want to say. I  must speak as if to myself because only to myself will I confide the truth as it amuses me to tell it. I'm sorry if this leaves you feeling left out or disappoints you. But not sorry enough to change my tactics, I admit it. In the hours preceding my death, where will you be, dear reader, and what will your approbation or condemnation, your attention or your neglect mean? In those trying hours, during my personal Golgotha, I'll have only one voice to truly comfort me and only one audience—and both will be, as now, my own voice and me. I hope you can understand; I daresay that it will be to your own advantage to do so. Sincerely and with all my best wishes, the Author.

Exit 64. State police car monitoring traffic. Elmore 17 miles. Reapplying lipstick in side view mirror. Hiking up skirt so truckers looking down can see. Elmore. Woodville. Gibsarburg. Portage River. Entering Sandusky County. Fremont. Port Clinton. Fangboner Road. Sandusky River. 

3:04pm. 
Do Not Pass Lane Next 5 miles.
Do Not Pass on Shoulder.

Mugs Road.
Single Lane Next 5 Exits.
Vermillion.
Amherst Comets.

Rest stop. Mint chocolate chip ice cream. Hello Kitty. Lorain. Clyria. 80 East. Cleveland. N. Olmstead. N. Ridgefield. Entering Cuyahoga County. Miracle Stone.net. Deathbed: though it's supposed to be a comfort and the reward of a life well-lived to be, as they threateningly put it, "surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones" at the moment of one's passing, but I can't imagine anything so horrible when you're trying to take your leave of the world than to be surrounded by representatives of the past? Isn't that precisely the time when one would want most to be unencumbered, undistracted, left alone? Isn't that the best part of dying, to finally be done with the burden of others? You come into this world alone and leave it even more alone; a lot of unnecessary bullshit in between can be avoided by always keeping that in  mind.

The stupid things people say to alleviate the terrible rupture of death. Silence isn't only preferable, it's the only fitting response.

The dying, in my experience, want to be left alone, says someone I read recently who agreed with me, but I can't remember who.

The long journey back.

Back? To what? To where?

Check brakes.
Stop Ahead.
Pay Toll.
Watch for ice on bridge.
Meander Lodge.
Hidden Drive.

Austintown, Ohio.


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