02 June 2010


        I recently realized that I never go on drives. It’s never struck me as something even minutely appealing. But this last week I’ve been noticing how much I love being in the car sometimes; how some of my best contemplation happens on the road with my music up to decibel 25 and endless cigarettes calming my mind. So today after work, I just started driving. I drove and drove and drove, for an hour. Sometimes I felt stupid… driving with the forced intent of being on a contemplative drive, avoiding the freeway because of traffic, and being confined by stoplights and city walls. But I drove anyways. I drove and I listened to the songs that made all of us dance harder and kiss harder and laugh harder in May. I thought of how I would give anything to live my life as poetically as Rilke encourages, and tried to take his advice and listen to my innermost being. It was wonderful.

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