The Truck Driver Parable

The driver pulled away from Humphert's garage with ease.
This was easy, he thought.
He pulled off onto an inter state and went off.
His truck, white to the wheel wells, handled well.
Cars passed, families focused on the road ahead of them all.
John just drove, shifting up and down but mostly just long, unfiltered, driving.
While the car passing him had a wife and husband laughing, John just had his CB radio collecting dust.
They passed without even looking over.
The road eventually turned into a highway.
The towns of hotels and gas stations passed by, each stop progressing the trip.

The states easily began to blur.
The grass is beginning to burn the farther John goes South.
The travelers pass faster.
The roads become wider, the drive easier, but John is still at the wheel.
Shift, brake, gas, shift, pass, check mirrors, look at cars passing, check gps, sleep.
Radio kept playing the same old songs.
The speakers cracked while riding over overpasses and construction sites with no workers.
It was winter where the snow was patchy and the geese stayed in the man made lakes of yesteryear.

The white mixed with the blue to create a foggy tapestry to stare at.
Over the horizon was nothing but the continuation of this one road.
John began to scratch at his right thigh.
His truck passed over an over pass.
He saw rivers as he went over bridges.
He witnessed the state borders blend into one another.
Homes off in the farm lands where the new barn was placed next to the old one that fell under gravity.

But the half way point began to fade behind John.
It was back in Pepsicola.  A few hours behind John now. About a hundred stops.
Miles and miles that were too hard to keep track.
Construction zones.  City mergers.  Cop cars and slow drivers sleeping at the wheel
when our sun was still so out.

The night began to fade in.
All the landscape turned grey beneath his truck.
The only way to see a sign is from maybe
shifting your eyes into the right alignment
and read the exit signs with those stupid little lights
they pass and each one makes John seem agitated.

In the dark the cars drive faster, the stranger're stranger.
The yellow lights spaced out look lost.
John thinks to turn here.
And he goes for it.
Just to make sure, he thought twice.

The parking was the hardest part.
backing in for the first time.
slow, simple, gentle
it was easy.
It was all too easy.


#2
It was the same trip.
Long roads measured by thumbs on a wall map.
each road shifted to fit in a tetris box
like a sand clock.

The trees would change.
leafs would grow green
then turn yellow
and then fall
to the ground.
rain to heat to wind.
Snow came and went to ice.

John was thinking of scaling as a freelancer.
The truck was his.
And he could invest in himself.
It was just one three day trip a week.
Money floated in.

It didn't come all free.
It had to come to him but he was a step ahead.
Before, in the dark age, taking a trip was always a job.
A sattellite turns it into a chore.
Follow the directions until ending.
Reverse.  Repeat.

Watch the surroundings.  These white lines can hold the road together.
Look through the mirrors
and notice the cars that are following this truck.
Getting ahead of him to arrive earlier.
Get passed and take longer.
Travel in the space of another
only separated by moments of wind
between air and metal.

The grey road began to close in around the Truck
it hardly ever widened and it's growth stagnant
to the surrounding gas station towns.
The space was becoming a much closer world
to the transportation vessels.

The travel still lasted as long.
The roads the same
and the moments still dull
all occurred on the reoccurring days
when the truck needed to drop
a box off.

#3
Then the truck became nothing.  This simple gesture of
convenience and money.
Responsible to bring this from here to there.
John was just parading around paraphernalia
like the next vendor.
But the truck was discrete.  It was just white,
carrying something, and each driver
that drives by tries to solve the mystery too.

No one ever approached John about it.
Just medicine he would tell himself
as he gripped the steering wheel
with one hand and put the other out the window.

The towns were all curious.  Here was this trucker
trucking past them all all the time.
It's like the prairie dogs look in a pack as a fox
is running by.
And this fox has jeans on metaphorically.
But the truck was hooked up with cameras.
The cameras told the truck who nodded with certainty
where the environment was.
The truck loses his blindness.
The truck now follows the directions.

The travel is an event to watch.
John observes the road around him
and only needs to manipulate the truck
if it translates the environment incorrectly.
The chances of John adjusting controls
before a camera is pitiful.

John just went to thinking
as the surroundings around him blared past
him in consistency.
This was just an obligation.
All he had to do was stay in the white truck
and supervise.
But John wasn't fulfilled.

Each time he parked, to pick up or to
drop off was another notch.
The camera's being able to sync
past user data to set history to the Truck's travel
only obliterated any human existence.
John was just a body
with eyes
that engineered this simplicity.

Each trip got him closer and nearer
to answering his thoughts.
A future is in the next word, the next dotted line,
the next breath, but is the moment after
actually change.
John just wanted to be John, not a body
holding down a truck, to drop a package off.

In the city

In an urban square
where the soil is the cement
and the statues are the trees.
where the faces stare beyond
the horizon.

As kids we would use them as boundaries.
As teenagers we would look through them.
As adults we read the inscriptions like our parents obituaries.

Around a brick corner
there are only stop signs and old folk
where they still shop at bodegas
and use their crutch for elevation
because The Dead Wind is still down there.

The buildings don't have faces
and no one owns the yard in front.
Your room mates don't remember
your name and she doesn't look the same
with your new beard and her dyed hair.

You tried to sound out any name
starting with E
but you ended up just saying "E!".

This is how the alphabet murders.
Letters too close like our home in the city.
Uniquity silenced by dissipating smog
when familiarity is only one word
in one spot.

Communication is limited and timid
since all passengers are on the go.
It's one, decisive ride
where you culturally begin
to clump like mussels
and you're not only a genre
but also plenty of jokes
and we all act like it's fine
but you just said it right to his face
and you never even leave.

leafs are perpetually wet
hanging out by the gutters.

Just Look Back

http://staticparticles.bandcamp.com/track/just-look-back

My Personal Personalities

Here is a photo album of most of my artwork.  This includes medium from canvas, to printer paper, to numerous journals. My Personal Personalities
Also it's my facebook page too.

Daedra wants Dick

.  http://staticparticles.bandcamp.com/album/daedra-wants-dick

Daedra Loves Dick

Daedra wants Dick

    Daedra is walking down the cold sidewalk with her four closest friends in the middle of the week.  They are all on their last year of college, ready to live in “the real world” as they call it.  But what they live resembles the television show more then they think.  Living with strangers, they call them roommates, just so they can get an education but taken in certain strides, partying and not taking school seriously would lead me to specifically call it a “lower” education. 

Been Doing

I've been trying to keep myself busy as usual.

Projects that I'm working on.

1. Daedra wants Dick.  I'm still going on this story very slowly.  It's coming to the end in it's written state.  I'm at about 40 pages and the shift is about to happen.  I want to see if I can get it published some place other then here but it's length is troubling.  I also want to do a tele-pod on this or pod play.  I feel like listening to something an hour long is more approachable then reading something that would take an hour.  No one I know reads consistently anymore that are my age so I'm shifting as well.

2.  I've been in the talks with a co-worker (Kris Solum) to do a few things.  I've always wanted to try out animation and he's actually done some animation so we are pitching ideas back and forth.  I gave him the idea of a man travelling from his old home to a new home with a mini-fridge.  As the trip grows longer, the surrounding landscape changes into a surreal being.  I finished up the storyboard and gave him a canvas painting of the final transformation of it all.

3.  Kris and I also are talking about doing a stop motion video.  We want to do produce battle raps between fruits versus vegetables.  I just wrote up the banana vs. head lettuce verses.  The video will hopefully be raunchy produce battling and I figured that the lyrics could also be semi-educational because I'm just talking about produce which is something I never learned about in school.

A.  Journal has been on a halt.  (Heard you Calling)

B.  I want to start working on music again but I feel like it could be too much for me.

Also been playing a lot of borderlands.