BECAUSE EVERY MOTHERFUCKER ON THE FREEWAY USED THEIR BRAKE PEDAL LIKE DOING SO RELEASED SOME ORGASMIC-FEELING-TYPE CHEMICAL IN THEIR BRAINS AND THEY WERE LIKE THOSE MONKEYS THAT JERKED OFF UNTIL THEY DIED OF STARVATION AND EXHAUSTION.

thankfully, my brother made me a mix cd last night that soothed my nerves:

poems (fragments): jack kerouac, pink moon: nick drake, the sky is a landfill (live/solo): jeff buckley, cuttooth: radiohead, the mess we're in: pj harvey, creative depression: julie doiron, dreams of horses: pj harvey, count to a thousand: joan of arc, how to disappear completely and never be found (from live bootleg of a show that we were at, word.): radiohead, some song i don't know the name of by lync, no name #3: elliott smith, a taste of dust: film school, half an acre: hem, i've got you under my skin: jawbox, the sea looked like lead: juno, the rain falls and the sky shudders: moby

i'm telling you, jack kerouac has a near perfect speaking voice. it's not too high and it's not too deep, and it has that beautiful massachussetts accent. voices different from mine hold so much attraction for me. 'praised be man for he is existing in milk and living in lillies'. god damn. you know, i regularly play as if i am going to lay down my love for jack kerouac, but i don't think i ever will. it reminds me of when i was younger, and i really really loved him, you know? being excited about reading in a different way than i had up until that point. being 16 and trying to take the poems at the end of big sur seriously, trying to understand what the hell. obviously, i hadn't really done any drugs yet at that point. a late bloomer, i was.

'chances are slender, in the million million billion cokies (?) of eons and incalculables, yes!, the turtle will set that yoke free

but 'til then

harder yet are the chances of a man to be reborn a man in this karma earth'

it was the perfect soundtrack for my crappy driving experience, if that makes sense.

relatedly, i actually saw a bumpersticker this morning that said "my karma ran over your dogma". now, i am pretty sure everyone's seen this bumpersticker before, but the thing is, it made me think that everything that you really need to know about that person is pretty much explained by that bumpersticker.

not only by the bumpersticker, but also by the fact that they went, "yeah, man, 'my karma ran over your dogma!' cool, maaaaaaaaaaan." and then slapped it on the back window of their truck cab.

i guess that can be said about anyone with any bumpersticker.

which is why i don't have one. i mean, i used to have band stickers on my old cars, but i'm pretty much over that.

but then, i thought further on my immediate dismissal of the karma/dogma bumpersticker man, and i felt kind of badly. i started to reevaluate whether i judge people too easily and too harshly, that my dismissals come too easily to me.

but then i saw his "wrangler butts drive me nutts [sic]" decal and i felt pretty justified.

did i mention the Co-Worker has the same decal on one of his cubicle walls?

he does.

reason #11 why being a mechanic would rule--no cubicle walls.

and while we are on the subject of my being a mechanic, i am will not let nay-sayers and rainers on parades ruin my dream.

in response to you, nay-sayers and rainers on parades, i direct you to the last line of this entry.

i won't let you oppress me with your ideas of the way garages have to be. or the way that mechanics have to be. i will, as my sweet snailandsky encourages, REVITALIZE THE SYSTEM FROM WITHIN.

WITH SEXY COVERALLS AND MISFITS/R KELLY FILLED WORKDAYS FOR ALL!