IS THERE LIFE ON MARS?
The last time I drove home to Greene County for Thanksgiving, I listened to this old tape of The Bends (Radiohead) and cried while I sang along to "Fake Plastic Trees." Yeah, I didn't tell any of you about that. I have this self-perpetuated notion of some kind of emotional toughness, which is a lie most of the time. This is what it feels like to come home. Some of the things that you used to feel when you were in highs school have been sitting there, just waiting for you to exit off of 79 south, and they all hit at once. Adam wrote something recently about how holidays are about pain and anguish for adults. How exactly on the mark.
I'm really not pained or anguished, but I think I'm more of an adult this time than I was last year. Like, a whole fucking lot. So, resignation and sadness, what is new?
Well, it's really an experience to drive home in a car with a twisted frame, let me tell you. Usually I just listen to my Biz Markee tape and chainsmoke on the drive home, but this time I ended up talking to myself a whole lot, I think to convince myself that my car wasn't going to veer off into another lane and take out some other travelers. And that didn't happen, but my dad took the car into the garage today, and they said it's totalled. Which means that it would cost more to fix the car than it's worth. Which means that today, during Steelers halftime, we went outside with the duct tape to fix up that damn bumper again. So I'm officially driving a beater these days. Xzibit, won't you pimp my ride?
Mom told me that Pittsburgh drivers usually have a lot of respect for somebody driving a car with some obvious scrapes and scratches, and I guess that means that I really have landed myself in selacious badass territory. And the Sonic Youth bumpersticker is still hangin' on.
The last time I drove home to Greene County for Thanksgiving, I listened to this old tape of The Bends (Radiohead) and cried while I sang along to "Fake Plastic Trees." Yeah, I didn't tell any of you about that. I have this self-perpetuated notion of some kind of emotional toughness, which is a lie most of the time. This is what it feels like to come home. Some of the things that you used to feel when you were in highs school have been sitting there, just waiting for you to exit off of 79 south, and they all hit at once. Adam wrote something recently about how holidays are about pain and anguish for adults. How exactly on the mark.
I'm really not pained or anguished, but I think I'm more of an adult this time than I was last year. Like, a whole fucking lot. So, resignation and sadness, what is new?
Well, it's really an experience to drive home in a car with a twisted frame, let me tell you. Usually I just listen to my Biz Markee tape and chainsmoke on the drive home, but this time I ended up talking to myself a whole lot, I think to convince myself that my car wasn't going to veer off into another lane and take out some other travelers. And that didn't happen, but my dad took the car into the garage today, and they said it's totalled. Which means that it would cost more to fix the car than it's worth. Which means that today, during Steelers halftime, we went outside with the duct tape to fix up that damn bumper again. So I'm officially driving a beater these days. Xzibit, won't you pimp my ride?
Mom told me that Pittsburgh drivers usually have a lot of respect for somebody driving a car with some obvious scrapes and scratches, and I guess that means that I really have landed myself in selacious badass territory. And the Sonic Youth bumpersticker is still hangin' on.
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