on random

It is hard to drive randomly.

It is hard to get to random places.

Random is hard.

Where you live, you know, and you can't trick yourself into not knowing it. You have to pick a highway, and just follow it, and hope it leads you somewhere interesting. Which is too intentional to be random, really.

One time, Tony and I were in a state. We were sitting there, trying to talk, but not really able to. Sometimes communication is hard. A caterpillar crawled up beside him. I pointed it out to him, and he ate it. He said he did it for random. I think if he had lived, he might have been a philosopher.

We were driving, Warden, Regrette and I, and we passed a large property with a tent and chairs and music and candles and people dancing. I thought about how rude it would be if i stopped, and then i thought about tony, and i turned into the lane and parked. I owed it to Tony--and to random--to check this party out.

The next time i get a dog, i'm going to name it Random.

I wondered who i could be for these people. Who did they need me to be? Who was suffering, who was alone, who was lonely? Curt jimenez was not crashing this party for himself, he was here for those in need.

I introduced myself to a few people, and tried to get a feel for what everyone was about. When someone finally escorted me to my car, i thought about how hard random can be. People don't just let you do whatever the hell you want to do.

It was still light out, and Regrette and Warden were restless. You know how sometimes the weight of life hits you? Suddenly, it hit me. I thought about how I'm almost out of money, and how I don't have a job or any job prospects. I thought about how long it's been since i've been with a woman. Why was I driving, and to where? For what? Where was i?

I should probably be medicated.

I pulled into a clearing i saw off the road at some point. I had a wrench, and a screwdriver in the trunk. I started taking my car apart, piece by piece. I just piled them up, the small accessories, and the essentials. The spark-plugs and the what-nots. In retrospect, you might have called it a melt-down. I had a little portable radio with me, and I found an oldies station.

We Gotta Get Outta this Place came on, and I cried.

And then, Laughing.

Ha!