the great plains

I went on a coastal roadtrip in 2012. We drove from Los Angeles to the Redwood forest and back. On the way there we crept along the cliffs, winding down roads. Sometimes I would sink low in my seat so I didn't have to see the upcoming twists and turns in the road. When you're in a car, this is easy. When this is your life, there's no sinking out of sight.

Then there was the drive back. Deciding that we had enough of the cliffs and the edge of what seemed to be the world, we took the straight and flat road home. We didn't see any accidents on our way up the coast but on that simple road, the wind whipped like hell against the car. So hard that I remember popping snacks in Matt's mouth for him because he couldn't take either hand off the wheel. There were a ton of accidents. We even saw some mini tornados out of dust and dirt. The cliffs were much more scary. At any point you felt like you were going to just tip off the edge. How funny that when everything was lain out simply before us that we were in much more danger.

I have arrived at the straight and simple. I'm not rising or falling. Much like a photograph that is unsaturated and flat, I keep flipping through the days, work, people, routines without much excitement or interest. I've lost interest in the organization of my things. My work seems to continue without any concern or creative satisfaction. Time moves and I watch it go. I sip water because nothing tastes particularly good or bad, mostly bland. I don't really watch out for cracks in the sidewalk. I haven't felt high or low but mostly medium. So where do I go from here knowing that if I take my hands from the wheel for one minute that I may flip over and end up worse off than where I begun.

I've seen the photos, I've heard the gossip. I knew it before I even discovered it. It dissolves in me and settles to the bottom. Nothing surprises me anymore because I've already imagined and reimagined it a million different ways. I saw you and it took me a full week to recover. I ended up flatter than before. More disinterested in what was around me, more disgusted with the situation.

I have a beautiful view of the city. I wake up around 4 or 5am everyday to the sun coming up over the city. My first thought is a split between how wonderful the colors are and how I don't understand how I got here. I haven't been here writing because I don't even have the real interest in putting it down anymore. After writing for days on ends, filling up notebooks and scribble pads with this and that I've run out. I got a cold and I ended up extremely exhausted. All the twists and turns were tiring and now that I'm on the flat, I'm more worried than ever.