I'm thinking of enlisting a vagabond to accompany me for the ride to knock the first 351 dollars off the offense. Then getting pregnant by him in order to claim I was going into labor, thus necessitating the 200 miles an hour.
The worst part, arguably I suppose, is that I'm pretty much in a coma the entire time. I'm having major hardcore heroin nods, minus the heroin. I'm not even enjoying my blatant disregard for the law. I want nothing more than to get my ass home and be unconscious as hell. Maybe pull a Layne Staley and decompose in my closet. That has sounded very appealing on more than one occasion. Except for the fact that I'd have to clean the closet out to even get in there.
I would take the carpool route on the way there, if it were offered. Negatory. Sometimes I look at the city come up over the horizon through various colored sunglasses to see it as someone else might. Someone who hasn't lived here her whole life. I wonder what it has to offer her, or him, or even me. Then I nearly slam into person in front of me whose stopped suddenly. The thousands of people in little vehicles heading off to do God knows what for God knows what purpose at 7:30 AM, stopping suddenly because there's so many more of them trying to get there.
I know it's been said so many times before. But if you can manage to make a living for yourself selling music, making music, piercing people, writing, being a smartass, and having the luxury of staying up all night to do whatever it is you do, then you should do it. You should'nt let the world make you think you should be doing otherwise. It's not necessarily so.