Parts 12, 13, 14

I want to get in a car and drive motherfucker drive. I want the south of France, maybe Spain, maybe Greece. I want an endless road and each night a new spot to pull over and sleep. I want to run from this brain of mine, this town of ours, your knowledge of me. I want to see foreign cities lit up like an emotional El Dorado, a beacon, A New Hope. I want someone to stare deep and straight into my eyes and say, "I fucking understand. Let's do this shit. Together".
Isn't that what you're all looking for? I want to never run out of petrol, to eat in three different countries in three different days, to see the sun rise in Europe and set in Africa. I never, ever, want to stop moving.

I want to be responsible for me and me alone.
But I want a girl and kids and a dog. So I think you're lying to protect yourself.

I don't want to carry the weight of emotion anymore.
But truly, isn't that what makes you real? Not what job you do, what you own. But all the cool feeling shit?

People can go suck a fuck.
Well now you're just being a cunt.

Bad days are a sign that the life you are living is not the life for you.
No. Bad days are all a part of it. It's up to you whether or not you spank those bad days. SPANK! SPANK!

Writing morose sentences in bold makes you realise how stupid it is to think depressing thoughts.
And writing little comments underneath, make you realise how high you are sitting on that horsey.

I wrote all this to clarify myself and don't really need to press publish.
Yeah, but it feels better when you do. Like closure.

CLOSURE.
Yeah, closure.





********





I've been waiting at this crossroad for a really long time. Every five minutes or so I light up a Stuyvesant and slowly draw back on it. Staring down the dusty road for any sign of movement. I tap my feet, I whistle a tune, I count the cows that graze in the paddock, I give them names. I see the sun rise and set, day after day, and I do not move. From time to time I think, "am I standing in the right spot? I've been waiting for a fucking long time, am I even standing in the right fucking spot? Why did I choose this spot?", but those thoughts pass and I look around and realise how beautiful it is where I am, and how much time I have to myself, to think upon things that need to be thought about. Sometimes I think, "Well, I'll give it another hour and then I'll head home" and at that moment I hear a noise far down the road and I realise that I want to be here to see it, when it finally comes, I will be standing, alone, the only one to see it as it comes, here, right to this very spot. Then the noise fades away and I am left again, standing alone on the side of the road. Tapping my feet and whistling a tune.





********




They said they would be waiting, but I am in no rush. I dance as I drive, head swinging from side to side, shouting the words, some correct, to an imaginary crowd. Imagining myself the protagonist, the hero, the lover. Imagining the velvet surrender of the girl in the song. I pass town after town, sometimes I turn off into a road for no reason, simply because it is there, though I know they are waiting it bothers me not. Each to their own, for I have things to see, trails to blaze and discoveries to make. Besides, eventually, I always find myself back on the road, the straight road, the road that leads to them, and if they are not there when I arrive, I'll just keep driving. Further and further. Forever.




********




I hear a noise behind me, startling me out of my reverie. There is a person there, here, standing right here beside me. Nervously I look up and down the road before saying, "hello..."

[Hello, why are you standing by the side of the road?]

"I'm...waiting. Waiting!"

[What are you waiting for?]

"Well, I can't really say, I mean, I don't really know, I just feel I should be waiting. I really feel that and so, that is what I am doing"

[Nothing ever happens here. I don't think you should wait here anymore. Come with me, I want to show you something]

"Umm...No, thanks anyway but I really just want to stand here and wait. I know it sounds silly, but this is where I want to be..."

[That is silly. You'll really like what I've got to show you. Maybe it's what you've been waiting for?]

"No, well, I don't think so, I think I'm going to know..."

[Well, okay. Goodbye then]

"Bye..."

I light another cigarette. And try to remember the chorus to a long forgotten song.





********




I never want to stop. I want to see the end of every road I pass. I want to follow every sign. Wherever it leads me. I never, ever, EVER want to stop.