Am I blogging...or am I pitching my existence?
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| High Concept Am I blogging...or am I pitching my existence? |
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Wednesday, April 09, 2003 The Pitch: It's like Maximum Overdrive meets The Taming of the Shrew! So I came home last night, exhausted as all get-out (oh, the ugly, ugly jobs I struggled with before I left work) and couldn't wait to go to bed. Too tired to write, to tired to do more than nod over the phone at the SGF, and then I went to bed and found myself sleepy and achey, my arms uncomfortable with any weight on them. Eventually, I slept, after running water on my wrists and popping two Advil Liquidcaps, but that was around midnight. I woke up, just like yesterday, at a few minutes after six, then went back to sleep. Then had to pull myself out of bed to go move the car for street cleaning (the meter maid was parked right in front of me--that was a pleasant thing to see).On the way, I realized that my neighborhood=the war. Because of street cleaning a lot of my neighbors had their cars up on the sidewalks, forcing me to walk in the street. It was a simple little visual reversal (cars on the sidewalk, pedestrian in the street) that shows the importance these damn things play in people's lives. Walking a third of the block to a corner, I counted four SUVs, two vans, two minivans and one truck. This sometimes happens when I'm on the highway. I'll look around and realize I'm the smallest car on the highway. Huge SUVs, with windows tinted (presumably to keep people from robbing all their high-end stereo equipment), shut me in on all sides. I remember one summer back in college, probably the last I stayed with my parents, I got to use my dad's small Toyota pick-up and I loved it. It's not like suddenly I was picking up used couches by the side of the highway or anything, but there were several times I did drive out to the beach and sat on the edge of the cab, watching the sun go down. And at times like those, I fantasized about having my own truck, with a typing table and a lawn chair in the back, and being able to drive anywhere and sit outside and write. It broke my heart a little bit when Dad bequeathed that truck to Chris. And now, at the times when I fantasize about owning a house, far away from all the people, I know part of the appeal (apart from a place where the dogs can run safe and free) is the need--yes, the god-given need!--for a small pick-up truck. Because with all these tinted SUVs and minivans rolling around an urban neighborhood, I think of Sadaam's Imperial Guard, I think of the drug dealers of Central America, I think of the thugs who run the world. And the thugs who need to sell them gas at the cheapest rates possible. posted by Jeff Lester | 8:37 AM | |
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