Into The Savage Wasteland Of The Mind
My breathing came hard but steady. My legs pumped furiously in their savage attempt to build speed.
That's what I wanted, speed. A Tokyo drift speed. To feel the air sailing over my head as the sweat rolled and my thighs burned. They'd feel like jelly afterward. I was out of shape and badly so. Not having worked out on this thing all winter had left my legs in ragged shape. Still, I kept going on the Mongoose mountain bike in what seemed to me a blazing path up hills and down them with my heart thudding in the desperate attempt to keep the blood flowing. The speed I wanted on this thing was insane and could not be accomplished by physical means. I wanted nothing more than blinding speed. To where? The crossroads between Uncertainty Boulevard and Unknown Destination Highway. The only two roads in my life that I've ever known.
They're straight shots into some nameless oblivion, you see. You don't know your destination until you arrive and, like Roland The Gunslinger, the only thing you know at the end of the day when your destination becomes a ghost town is that the world moved on without you and it's up to you to catch up to it. It's frightening in some way, never knowing where you're going until it's too late and the only thing that is for certain is that everything is subject to change. Having to face that kind of thing on a regular basis is the worst trip in the world.
Within this journey are all the classic elements of novels. Man versus nature comes into play where we all end up jockeying for position, knowing nature will win and we will lose...horribly so. Man versus man is the next logical step when we find ourselves beset by The Adversary at all times, working through others to try and drag us down. Sometimes, it seems we are lost and hopelessly lost at that. Then, that one person out there will reach out with something, maybe a hand, a kind word or two. They'll pick you up and carry you just far enough and drive into you the fact that failure is not an option. Somewhere in the in-between, we're faced with the ultimate battle; man versus himself. That look into a twisted reflection of yourself when you know it's better to slip in, give in and just let go. Let the darkness take you and leave it to it. Then, there is the other side that screams and rages and you don't know you're doing it until you find yourself with a shattered mirror and pieces of it embedded into the skin and bone of the knuckles of the fist you used to shatter it. You're not even really aware you're screaming until you wake up, thrashing violently, wondering just whether or not what you experienced is real.
That's when most look to the sky to ask God if He's still there. They ask if He still hears them. They wait and wait for an answer...and sometimes it never comes. They watch as people fall and are unable to do anything about it and they wonder if God in all His Infinite Wisdom is laughing at them. Then, it's back on the horse, more broke than when you started, nearly broken to boot with nothing but the wind at their backs and more open road amidst desolation that stretches for miles in the heat. The first moments of the ride are blinding speed. They take the place of all the anger and frustration. Some will suffer millennia of it and their lives are as hard and as fast as any rally race ever seen on the planet. Some have a lot of atonement to bear.
At the end of every one of these rides for me is a final stop by the one place I have left as a sanctuary. It's a baseball field. Long after the crowds are gone and the concession stands shut down, I go there, hitch the bike to the fence and walk about, not really doing anything in particular but wondering if maybe the world will move on once I reach the next destination. I wonder if I wouldn't be better off just blowing through, rambling on into the next place. Perhaps it might even be best to double back and let the rest of it just go on without me. I sit there in the darkness of that small sports complex, somewhat comforted by the darkness, feeling as though I'm part of it. It's no secret that the sun hates me with a nuclear capability but this present darkness, it feels right to me. It's home. I'm certain it's what will prevent much in my life. It will hinder many different relationships and I'll forever be construed as an oddity. Still, this is my home, cloaked within it, with a player full of illegal MP3s slung around my neck singing their twisted lullabyes to me.
"Oh how I wish
for soothing rain
all I wish is
to dream again..."
Nightwish "Nemo"
That's what I wanted, speed. A Tokyo drift speed. To feel the air sailing over my head as the sweat rolled and my thighs burned. They'd feel like jelly afterward. I was out of shape and badly so. Not having worked out on this thing all winter had left my legs in ragged shape. Still, I kept going on the Mongoose mountain bike in what seemed to me a blazing path up hills and down them with my heart thudding in the desperate attempt to keep the blood flowing. The speed I wanted on this thing was insane and could not be accomplished by physical means. I wanted nothing more than blinding speed. To where? The crossroads between Uncertainty Boulevard and Unknown Destination Highway. The only two roads in my life that I've ever known.
They're straight shots into some nameless oblivion, you see. You don't know your destination until you arrive and, like Roland The Gunslinger, the only thing you know at the end of the day when your destination becomes a ghost town is that the world moved on without you and it's up to you to catch up to it. It's frightening in some way, never knowing where you're going until it's too late and the only thing that is for certain is that everything is subject to change. Having to face that kind of thing on a regular basis is the worst trip in the world.
Within this journey are all the classic elements of novels. Man versus nature comes into play where we all end up jockeying for position, knowing nature will win and we will lose...horribly so. Man versus man is the next logical step when we find ourselves beset by The Adversary at all times, working through others to try and drag us down. Sometimes, it seems we are lost and hopelessly lost at that. Then, that one person out there will reach out with something, maybe a hand, a kind word or two. They'll pick you up and carry you just far enough and drive into you the fact that failure is not an option. Somewhere in the in-between, we're faced with the ultimate battle; man versus himself. That look into a twisted reflection of yourself when you know it's better to slip in, give in and just let go. Let the darkness take you and leave it to it. Then, there is the other side that screams and rages and you don't know you're doing it until you find yourself with a shattered mirror and pieces of it embedded into the skin and bone of the knuckles of the fist you used to shatter it. You're not even really aware you're screaming until you wake up, thrashing violently, wondering just whether or not what you experienced is real.
That's when most look to the sky to ask God if He's still there. They ask if He still hears them. They wait and wait for an answer...and sometimes it never comes. They watch as people fall and are unable to do anything about it and they wonder if God in all His Infinite Wisdom is laughing at them. Then, it's back on the horse, more broke than when you started, nearly broken to boot with nothing but the wind at their backs and more open road amidst desolation that stretches for miles in the heat. The first moments of the ride are blinding speed. They take the place of all the anger and frustration. Some will suffer millennia of it and their lives are as hard and as fast as any rally race ever seen on the planet. Some have a lot of atonement to bear.
At the end of every one of these rides for me is a final stop by the one place I have left as a sanctuary. It's a baseball field. Long after the crowds are gone and the concession stands shut down, I go there, hitch the bike to the fence and walk about, not really doing anything in particular but wondering if maybe the world will move on once I reach the next destination. I wonder if I wouldn't be better off just blowing through, rambling on into the next place. Perhaps it might even be best to double back and let the rest of it just go on without me. I sit there in the darkness of that small sports complex, somewhat comforted by the darkness, feeling as though I'm part of it. It's no secret that the sun hates me with a nuclear capability but this present darkness, it feels right to me. It's home. I'm certain it's what will prevent much in my life. It will hinder many different relationships and I'll forever be construed as an oddity. Still, this is my home, cloaked within it, with a player full of illegal MP3s slung around my neck singing their twisted lullabyes to me.
"Oh how I wish
for soothing rain
all I wish is
to dream again..."
Nightwish "Nemo"
posted by Lord Genocyde at 2:26 AM
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