Unsafe Car Ride
Blessed by God to live and turn and speed and dance and laugh and kiss and cry and throw up on a pillow of silk just to wake up and realize I never did any of that and realize then that I have all day to do all that!
Honey Preachin’ - grateful to have that piece featured in Rocky’s War Kitchen publication. Can’t express how thankful I am and how much I appreciate him + his creative outlet. Read Issue 05 of War Kitchen HERE.
Best review of the piece:
“U reminded me of what I forgot on a gloomy monday. Started feeling sorry for myself. Thanks for kicking sense back into me” - Jay. it’s what I’m here for. To be hated by those to weak to see the light and promoted by those that stand up! Run!
Remember that time you wrote me 200 letters
Never once to a single reply?
Remember they all referenced a love that wasn't real?
I’m in the car. Maria’s cats in the passenger seat licking her lips because the way the ‘music sounds taste good’ and anytime she says shit like that I regret inviting her to hangout.
“Ssseeeeeeee Winsssston? Doesssn’t Thy guitar have sssuch sssswwweet flavor?” Old English dialect layered in snakey hiss sounds. Always. Always talking like that. I think God put her here to test my limits.
“The sweetest flavor.” I lie, to get her to enjoy the silence, plus it’s the saxophone. The sax has the sweetest flavor. It’s sugar over gravel, Angel screams at dawn.
Even the weird shit coming from her mouth can’t blow my high because I’m electric. I’m on my way to Planet Fitness.
I’m thinking of the clientele. Different than my new gym. I’m getting nostalgic and can’t sit still.
I’m thinking of breathing heavy, real heavy, obnoxiously heavy, HVAC stuck in the back of my throat heavy, around fat people to see how they act. I immediately rid this thought of my mind and smile.
I smile, an honest smile the product of which is picturing fat people in the gym. I’m feeling proud. Praise them from mountaintops!
I’m thinking of who’s going to greet me!
It’s always a gamble at Planet Fitness.
Sometimes it’s the man dressed like a woman,
or the woman dressed like a woman,
or the man dressed like a man
or the the woman dressed like a man
or the they/them dressed like they do and how crazy is that?
It’s a wild world I live in.
Go back a decade and some change. I’m 20 something.
Exactly that ‘twenty something,’ so go back to the 00’s.
Back to a different world. The woke stuff was different, I didn’t know my friends were black until the news told me I remember once in daycare getting reprimanded for calling myself vanilla and my buddy chocolate but it was once and I was naive and I didn’t say Ni.. and I knew someone in the family was married to the same sex but she was also a highway patrol(wo)man and I admired her, so tough and meaningful, and I still do, but it was kind of just there and not thrown around at holidays or birthdays and what gets really wild is the focus and identification of it.
My train of thought is interrupted.
Maria’s cat is meowing ferociously outside the window and I have to crane around, streessedly looking for why? And when I see a German Shepard in the car beside of us, also with his head out the window and I realize... It sinks how primal we are. How felt, intuitive life is. Does the moon chase the Sun? Some rodents store just enough poison to preserve winter food, just enough to keep the food fresh just enough to not die… what is this… I almost hold up a milk bone hoping the dog will jump out after it, jump through the window and grab the cat but I don’t. Compassion, discipline, maybe. My heart is burnt and red but mostly red, maybe.
Then looking around I see every car also has their windows down. Every single one is open airing it. Everyone is cruising the lane of time and I see wide nostrils, deep rips of air. “That’s what I’m talking about, look at everyone feeling it!”
“Yessssssss.” *hiss*
God. I mean? Not going to make it.
But still no high is killed. Heads are nodding. Arms are leaning on exposed door rests, shades flipped up an effort to tame madness in their hair! I’m starting to vibrate and I think I growl in excitement.
A guitar solo comes up and I crank it, max, 40/40 so Maria’s cat can get lost in it.
We’re now both nodding our heads to intensely that Heads will roll…. Heads will rolll…
and the Tahoe beside me in a rolling in a smoke, maybe a pack of cigarettes, maybe a hotbox. The girl in the back has dark sunglasses contrasting fluorescent skin with an expressionless face sucking a lollipop and I think: cool. And I say, “hey baby!”
But turn before a response because now my head is bumping so har and fast that I feel it slightly dislodge from my shoulders and Maria’s cat threatens to tell Maria and I threaten to tell Maria that she eats 3 cans of Fancy Feast Petites Pate Wild Alaskan Salmon Entrée Wet Cat Food with 1,100 calories and high vitamin count per serving and it’s why she’s getting FAT!
Sunroof open I exhaust every bit of lung capacity into my next breath. I want the air to touch the inside of my toes.
It seems everyone feels this.
Like there’s an invisible vapor in the air, a soft apple undertone, autumn, leaves crunch away heartbreak and the breeze takes anxiety into its vanishing world to be forgotten.
Who thinks of tomorrow morning while having Sex? And I sit in this question for a couple seconds and realize I’m always having sex. The world is always turning me on. I walk around with a metaphysical hard on because it’s all exciting, weird, it can be as good or as bad as I make it out to be and when I come out of this stupor Maria’s cat is on the dash board spinning around like in a pagan trance and I think good God! She feels it too!
We’re speeding into the Planet Fitness parking lot and I have the sudden urge to chase a viagra down with my pre workout. But I don’t have either so I snort some raw tobacco holler in Maria’s cats face have her slap me a couple times back and forth, back and forth until we’re punching each other, bloody and voicelessly both agree: Let’s go pump.
Much love
Winston
Souled Idea
Holy Breathing Outlaw
The Worst of The Best if Judged by Those In The Middle.
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