Yeah, I See You

Posted 29May2012.

This was a much earlier and… colorful… blog post. Enjoy.

You’re hard to miss, you’re right in front of me…

…Driving too slow.

Don’t mind me, I’m composing a scathing commentary on your lack of urgency.

Really? Twenty-eight… no… THIRTY miles per hour in a posted forty-five. Yep, there’s another sign…very clear, since we’re moving at the speed of semi-frozen molasses. Slow enough to let me ponder another cliché not so worn as “molasses”. Plaster… Congealed gravy three hours after Thanksgiving… Cheese through a digestive tract…

Yeah, I see you.

What the hell are you looking at? Your meandering regard of the scenery of…pawn shops, title loan stores, and other light commercial-zoned flotsam is fascinatingly irritating and very obvious with the oversized Stetson you are sporting. We’re moving so slowly, that it takes me less than an eighth of a mile to figure out that, for every third line on the road we ooze past, your attention wanders towards your left window. Let me sum this up for you, so you can refocus back you your much-neglected accelerator pedal:

“Nothing to see. Move along. Quickly.”

Oh, hell…the light turned yellow, and I can see a thought process about as deliberate as the debate on prayer in public schools. Forget it. You stopped.

I’d love to get over once forward progress resumes, but see, you are moving at a rate that people three lights behind us and oddly not even in sight have detected your sloth-like driving and have turned the lane to the immediate left into a wall of financial liability and bodily harm.

Green.

Pause.

Oh what the hell?! Are you kidding me? My mind briefly examines the idea that I should trade down into a buggy of perpetual impervious liability… something so decrepit, dismal, and oddly well-built that it actually welcomes turning each divided highway into a demolition derby of forward momentum.

I’m swearing so much now out loud that it drowns out the internal blog I am posting. Words that would melt confessional candles from thirty feet. Oaths and profanity that, in order to properly undo, would require enlisting a Rabbi, a Greek Orthodox minister, several Zen masters, and a witchdoctor – just to be on the safe side. I can’t see how fast you are not going because the air in my truck has turned a lovely shade of blue. There’s even lightning bolts singing my upholstery. Next will be frogs and plague.

Oh… we’re back up to thirty. Yep, still posted as forty-five…and still looking around.

…Cardinal sins… I am experiencing every single one, at the moment:

• Lust – check. Oh how I want to treat my accelerator badly. Punish it for teasing me like the rectangular vixen that it is.
• Gluttony – check. I am thirsty for the speed limit, and will drink five over to excess.
• Greed – absolutely. I want this lane and ALL lanes for myself. I want all the indications on the dash to show a heady wealth of obedience to the posted forward fucking speed.
• Sloth – bit harder, but yep. I feel so lazy right now that I fear reverse evolution. I want to sit in a tree and sling excrement. If we go any slower, I might just start oozing.
• Wrath – fuck yeah, I got this one!
• Envy – check. I hate the people to my left with their uppity travels at a rate considerably more than mine. To quote the local popular vernacular: “I wants me some o’ THAT.”
• Pride – unbelievably, yes. I’m very pleased that I have had the time and pleasure to compose this wonderful description in my head.

And with that…  post.