Her foot is on the pedal and her head is in the stars. Joy was a Bettie Page styled hottie on a mission. After a chance encounter with Nick Joy finds a kindred spirit but is she just too much for him to handle?
Hang on tight, this girl drives as...
Winter was in its death throes when I finally had enough of the malaise and decided the best way to live was just to do just that, live. I couldn't get Sofi out of my mind. I was eating myself alive with jealousy, worry, and, more than anything, sadness. I had never been so close to someone, only to have them slip away with absolutely no hope. Writing? Oh man, I hadn't written a thing since I saw her last. Staring at empty pages, a word here and there but no great ideas, metaphors, or even traces of memory came forward. That, too, seemed hopeless. I had figured out that there was no way I could work the god-damned forty-plus hours a week making the wages I did and ever have any sort of life. That I knew. That was the beginning, the beginning of the end.Months before, I concluded that existing lent itself quite nicely to that sort of regimen, not living, and all great writers had lived. At least that's what I thought.
Monday 3:17 AM
Sleep was not happening, not for more than a few minutes at a time. I was excited; my heart felt like it would leap from my chest at times. Conversely, I felt sick, but all because of excitement and anticipation. This was my last week of work, my last week! This was going to be my last Friday. Next Friday, I would hand in my notice effective immediately and walk the hell out of that oppressive corporate droning job forever. Things had started to fall in line. I was even playing with the words again. Plans had been made weeks before, and they were all coming to fruition. The only problem for me immediately was that I just could not sleep. The clock mocked me, and I resigned myself to laying there and letting the thoughts race around one another in my head.
I lay there in bed night after night and imagined the house, empty, or rather becoming empty a little bit at a time. Each piece of furniture dissolved from its place, each trinket and book and lamp and computer and television, doormat and shower curtain particleized, disappeared, then finally so went the roof and the walls, and so went the house.
I was sleeping on the ground under an open sky; the canopy of trees partly blackened the star-filled heavens overhead. Surrounded by thundering rasps of cicadas and the scent of fresh pine needles, it was no longer lonesome. It was peaceful. The little lot where the house once had been was empty, giving the dogwood, tulip poplar, oak trees, and crape myrtle more room to spread out and grow. I needed room to grow, grow my mind and soul. One night, as I lay there staring into space, a loud definitive clap of hands came together, and Pharaoh spoke (In Yul Brenner's voice).
"So let it be written. So let it be done."
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
It was loud enough to stir me into consciousness. With Pharo's words, a plan began to take form in my sleepy head almost instantly. Yes, indeed, I was experiencing the beginning of the end. The strange dream-inspired plans had been nagging at me for days, but now they were coming together in earnest. There was nothing in the way of my next big journey but myself. I needed to get going. Compounding the terribly lonesome time was that the friends I had were all living their grown-up lives while I was still floundering. Often the perception is reality, and I perceived myself to be an irritation because I could not relate to what they were experiencing; pregnancy, growing family, promotions. Nor could they relate to me. There were no hard feelings, I did and do love them all, but I just drifted off on my own at that time.
