c2011 (S)
If you really loved us
You would kill us
We can't eat, we can't sleep, we can't drink
We're broke
And we can't be fixed
Won't you please dig us a hole
It would give us someplace to go
We are much too strong to compromise
With a face like that
We had better stay out of trouble
Every wrinkle tells a story
And all the world's a tragedy
We're just bad actors
In a story with no end
All that pent-up energy
No useful place to roam
Confused yet?
You bet.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
Rain-washed streets
c2011 (S)
When I was fifteen, I bought a 1970 Austin Mini for about $150.
After fixing a broken remote gearshift housing, the car ran very well. The first time I filled the car up it cost $4.50 at sixty-eight cents a gallon.
What I remember about that car is the sense of freedom, and even of accomplishment. We had to fix the thing, and safety-check it, and scrape up the money for insurance.
I learned to drive with a manual gearbox in the field behind our house before I got my beginner's license.
Not all of our little gang of teenagers had a car, and this was a whole lot different from borrowing your mother's car. My buddy and I used to cruise the city streets all night long. It sounds nuts, now. I get tired after a half an hour in a car, and that's not too good when you're the driver.
We talked about everything, everything under the sun. Mostly about girls, though!
I've wanted for a long time to buy a certain car, or even a certain type of car, and go for a long tour down country roads on an autumn day, but what I especially remember is some of the night driving I did.
After one too many trips with five or even six people in an Austin Mini, I bought a two-seater. The Mini was fun when you're sixteen and picking up chicks hitch-hiking, or just going to a movie.
To tour around with no passengers was another kind of freedom.
This evening I went out and drove around, smoking and listening to the radio. It was different, all right. It was dark, windy, and cold. The rain was coming down, and the evil glare of blue light spilling off of a storefront made everything look sinister and alien.
I used to think I was 'the Rainmaster' in my little sports-car. Hell, I beat guys in Galaxy 500's in my Mini, on twisty roads--it was only years later, watching some history of motorsport show on cable TV, when I saw the same scenario at Oulton Park circuit. The Minis won, by the way.
I spent hundreds of hours in that sports-car, driving way too fast. One night my buddy was doing the driving and he had a Triumph TR-6. Approaching a red light intersection, he downshifted into second gear and watched the cross-street's 'don't walk' flashers. Timing it perfectly, he saw the green light and accelerated up to about 40 mph as we went through, and at that exact minute, at 1974 Chevy Nova with no headlights on came zooming past our rear bumber at thirty-five miles per hour.
They missed us by inches.
On another occasion, I was alone, when I saw a vehicle speeding up to an intersection where I knew he had a stopsign. I was going a little fast...stomping the accelerator pedal, the 350-cubic inch engine in my blue, four-door Chevy Impala kicked in and that son of a bitch hit my rear bumper, leaving a baseball-sized dent, and sped off into the night down Colborne Road...
There are dangers in just cruising around all night!
There were some interesting times with one or more girlfriends, but all that's long in the past too.
No, it was different tonight, and while some streets were enjoyable, one in particular, one that has unfamiliar curves, a bit of oncoming traffic and not too many lights, actually made me kind of edgy. All you can do is to slow down and drive a little more carefully.
Before I do that again, I plan on cleaning the inside of the windows. Other than that, it was okay.
When I was fifteen, I bought a 1970 Austin Mini for about $150.
After fixing a broken remote gearshift housing, the car ran very well. The first time I filled the car up it cost $4.50 at sixty-eight cents a gallon.
What I remember about that car is the sense of freedom, and even of accomplishment. We had to fix the thing, and safety-check it, and scrape up the money for insurance.
I learned to drive with a manual gearbox in the field behind our house before I got my beginner's license.
Not all of our little gang of teenagers had a car, and this was a whole lot different from borrowing your mother's car. My buddy and I used to cruise the city streets all night long. It sounds nuts, now. I get tired after a half an hour in a car, and that's not too good when you're the driver.
We talked about everything, everything under the sun. Mostly about girls, though!
I've wanted for a long time to buy a certain car, or even a certain type of car, and go for a long tour down country roads on an autumn day, but what I especially remember is some of the night driving I did.
After one too many trips with five or even six people in an Austin Mini, I bought a two-seater. The Mini was fun when you're sixteen and picking up chicks hitch-hiking, or just going to a movie.
To tour around with no passengers was another kind of freedom.
This evening I went out and drove around, smoking and listening to the radio. It was different, all right. It was dark, windy, and cold. The rain was coming down, and the evil glare of blue light spilling off of a storefront made everything look sinister and alien.
I used to think I was 'the Rainmaster' in my little sports-car. Hell, I beat guys in Galaxy 500's in my Mini, on twisty roads--it was only years later, watching some history of motorsport show on cable TV, when I saw the same scenario at Oulton Park circuit. The Minis won, by the way.
I spent hundreds of hours in that sports-car, driving way too fast. One night my buddy was doing the driving and he had a Triumph TR-6. Approaching a red light intersection, he downshifted into second gear and watched the cross-street's 'don't walk' flashers. Timing it perfectly, he saw the green light and accelerated up to about 40 mph as we went through, and at that exact minute, at 1974 Chevy Nova with no headlights on came zooming past our rear bumber at thirty-five miles per hour.
They missed us by inches.
On another occasion, I was alone, when I saw a vehicle speeding up to an intersection where I knew he had a stopsign. I was going a little fast...stomping the accelerator pedal, the 350-cubic inch engine in my blue, four-door Chevy Impala kicked in and that son of a bitch hit my rear bumper, leaving a baseball-sized dent, and sped off into the night down Colborne Road...
There are dangers in just cruising around all night!
There were some interesting times with one or more girlfriends, but all that's long in the past too.
No, it was different tonight, and while some streets were enjoyable, one in particular, one that has unfamiliar curves, a bit of oncoming traffic and not too many lights, actually made me kind of edgy. All you can do is to slow down and drive a little more carefully.
Before I do that again, I plan on cleaning the inside of the windows. Other than that, it was okay.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
No One There.
c2011 (S)
Soft fingers tug at my heartstrings
A voice in the night, inside of my head
I turn, and there is no one there.
***
Doigts douce tirant à mes sentiments.
Une voix dans la nuit, à l'intérieur de ma tête.
Je passe, et il n'y a nul il.
Soft fingers tug at my heartstrings
A voice in the night, inside of my head
I turn, and there is no one there.
***
Doigts douce tirant à mes sentiments.
Une voix dans la nuit, à l'intérieur de ma tête.
Je passe, et il n'y a nul il.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
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