so I’m a truck driver now. sitting at the lights today it freaked me out. cars cars cars, it was endless. insane. I don’t think I’m a city boy after all.

Hi. Approach me with a pole.

I think it’s disgusting that people don’t have time for love. Tonight at least.

“It frightens me sometimes; having most of my ambitions and dreams so dependent on the lives of three other people. Most of the time it’s a slick working machine. What is a band? A marriage of talent, support, ego, humility, power, selflessness… of idea, of birth, or death… of change? Of IDEA!!”

“Silly boy! A band is about beer, groupie sex, and how well you play your intrument.”

It’s only the early afternoon and I feel as though I’ve lived through three days. Mucking around a grocery store until 5am, grab some sleep before that job interview, find something to eat (mental note, do not mix orange juice and donuts, of the chocolate variety), grab some sleep before going back to work. I’m not sure whether to designate my meals by time of the day or by how I feel. It would seem appropriate to down a steak at 6pm, but I might feel like some fresh fruit and toast upon opening my eyes.

It’s decided. Beer and samosa were not meant to be mixed – in anything besides moderation. Moderation on the beer end that is. With the possible exception of Brava. I must abandon this investigation as I can no longer endure the taste of vomit throughout the day.

oh you spicy wrapped morsel of curried vegetable goodness!

those nagging persistent reminders of something you’re trying to get over.

I’ll get there. Bouncing on the throne of a trrrrrruck. My head in the clouds. My baggage (empty photo albums and tarot cards) packed and bound out back, where it belongs. The hearts of friends beat from just within my battered wrist and my hand rests on a 2 foot stick shift.

I am all too eager to wrap these hopes and dreams around you. Around the puzzle pieces that are moments and memories with which I construct you, all that I’ve made you to be. My thoughts are fed with a boundless naivety to think that I might change the world, or even change myself, but I must have been dreaming to think that I could ever change you.

As these days pass my transition line changes. Where I used to flip between a chasm as wide as a sun setting in canyons, I now find myself coming down on a razor wide division. These are those endless nights of indecision. A lethargic dependence to a bouncing ball… watch it bounce.