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and it's hard to hold a candle |
2002-09-23 - 1:04 p.m. SB the end: freeway friends prestently listening to: intentions to: soberity level: so, the drive home from Santa Barbra is a long and potentionally lonely one. i like to pass the time estimating miles till i need to get gas, guessing city names and thier origin. i'll calculate how far i drive every 10 mins. i look at fellow drivers and wonder what their road trip music of chose is at this very moment. i'll check out the stuff in the car and try and guess where they are going. where are they coming from. and, ultimately, why. all this thought follws through my brain with much greater ease when i have remembered to roll my self a joint before i've left. i might drive myself crazy with detail if it wasn't for the help of that lovely velvet smoke. creeping in and arounfd every empty hallway deep within the caverns of my head. with this new awareness the music from my busted ass stereo regains its feeling and power (even if at such low bass levels and volume, with that wierd electronic-emptiness-hum sound) now more than ever does the warm breeze through central California feel nice in my hair. as does rocking out hard core with shoulder shimmies and head bobbing. no, harder, really just shy of thrasing around in the drivers seat. (good music can do this to you too, just gotta find somthing you dig) anyway, for a good hour or two there was this dorky looking guy who looked about my age driving relatively the same pace as myself. after much consideration (about a half an hour) i decided that after having been watched dancing around in my car for some time, i might as well introduce myself. not really at all, i lied just now. this is it- purely based on the fact that he was decently young and looked perticularly non-threatening i asked him, through a series of on-the-spot creative sign language skills, "you"-(point index figure at person your signing at) "smoke pot"-(pinching motion using the index figure and thumb placed at puckered lips) "yes or no"-(motion thumb upwards, then downwards) freeway friend-(thumbs up)-"yes" i motioned him to the right, got in front of his car in the right lane and exited at the nearest exit, some dirt agricultural access road. i got out of my car as did he. i introduced myself and shook his hand. his name was Russell, he looked kinda dorkier than expected. i asked if he wanted to smoke a joint, and when he agreed i asked him into my car. we smoked and i asked where he was going and where he was coming from. ('why' was clearly explained in the where he was coimg from) he was from Santa Maria originally. he had just transfered to Berkely from San Diego, thats where he was headed. he had gone camping all weekend with friends. he'd smoked weed and drank the nights away. i didn't talk too much. i let him tell me his story. he's a music major, as i had speculated with his shaggy un kempt hair. i think he was nervous. i think thats why i wasn't. 3/4 of the joint in, he pronounced himself bombed. i agreeded likewise. he got out, then offered another hand shake and thanked me. we got back on the freeway and i lost him after about 25mins. common people, common places. it was a bonding experience, bonding between the connectedness of things and people, not russell and i really. |
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in the cold November rain |