Monday, May 26, 2008

Speed

Recently, I've started taking the back roads to work. When I first started going to Carbrook, I went on the freeway and cut across; then I realised it would be just as quick and probably nicer to go along Mt Cotton Rd. But I am frustrated by all the lorries and the people who want to drive at 60 in an 80 limit. I have lost any sense of moderation when I drive. Now I'm always fired up and raging and I can never go fast enough. So I started cutting across German Church Rd and going down through the back lanes. I can go faster.

I can go faster and faster. The first time, I just did 80 along German Church Rd and touched 100 on Stein Rd I think it is, which is straight and flat. No harm done by that. You can see the whole road and it's decent.

But 100 was not enough. It stopped feeling fast, so I pushed it more and more. There is a dip in Stein Rd, a floodway, and today I ran through it at 120 with my hands off the wheel. (I couldn't brake enough to stop the car in time to turn, and had to reverse to go down Coorang Rd.)

Next time I will close my eyes.

***

when you are in a car
turning over and over on the highway
you cannot hold the wheel and think you can steer

the normal rules of driving are suspended
and if you die, you die

when you are in a ship
that is going down fast
it is too late
to wish you had learned to swim

and anyway there are so many sharks

***

I have completely lost sight of whether I want to become who I am or stop being who I am. But I know I used to be someone who cared whether he was found mangled in a ditch by the side of the road, and now I don't, so long as I die and don't just suffer.

10 Comments:

At 10:51 pm, Blogger There's one inside us all said...

There are less final ways to prove you were alive than by dying, Z.

But you're a lazy git so I can see how a car smash would appeal.

My only other advice to befall your deaf ears would be see a fucking doctor. There must be some prescribed medication for Selfish Cunt Syndrome - since your self medication has failed you.

I'm through commenting here. I just sound like a nagging whingebag (which you know I am in private - doesn't mean I want the whole fucking world to know it).

 
At 1:09 am, Anonymous Anonymous said...

If you want to guarantee death without suffering you will have to be going faster than 120kph/75mph.

But i hear that charcoal burners in small unventilated spaces are a better method.

But then you could always take the easy way out and see a doctor, you selfish, pathetic wimp.

 
At 8:04 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

boots sez:

from Unluck: "Here's a thing about luck. I'm going to wrap up with this. It's something I understand but cannot do, and it's going to be my focus for the next couple of months in poker, and in life (until I change my views on that in about a day or two)."

from Speed: "I have completely lost sight of whether I want to become who I am or stop being who I am. But I know I used to be someone who cared whether he was found mangled in a ditch by the side of the road, and now I don't, so long as I die and don't just suffer."

The thing about speed as a vehicle toward understanding Luck is that although it can work, it is not necessary. True, at high speed there seem to be many occurrences and a good deal of spontaneous happenstance, but the same is true of any event-rich environment.

Which is a way of saying that it might help your understanding but it may very well not be the most expedient method of arriving at the goal. Adrenaline can be confusing, trips to the repair shop, hospital, or jail can be distracting. Then of course Murphy will strive to ensure that you simply suffer but don't die.

You might get better results from wandering around a circus, shopping mall, or crowded barroom and paying close attention. Or who knows, speed may be your route.

Just pay attention whatever your route.

 
At 2:13 am, Blogger Father Luke said...

Ahhh. Speed.

You don't know speed, Zen, until
you've driven a fully loaded truck
over the limit while on the nod,
because you're too damn tired to
not go on . . .


You drive like you live, like you
write, like you do everything. . .

I no longer drive at all. I read
emails from lawyers; I get calls
from attorneys; I answer the door
to process servers; I'm served
subpoenas; I work enough to
pay rent, so that I will have a
place to sleep, so that I can work,
so that I may pay rent . . .


Were the semi colons correct up
there, btw?

- -
Okay,
Father Luke

 
At 9:30 am, Blogger Arleen said...

I just noticed your flag at the side. At first I saw FUC LUC.

 
At 2:06 pm, Blogger Don said...

Why fear suffering? It will be your last experience, make the most of it. Don't be a puss.

Though you delinked me because you're not very smart and lack understanding, I won't bother returning the favor. Sorry.

So the thing with driving an overloaded truck at speed and not caring anymore is that when you are on that long downgrade going west into Salt Lake and it pops into your head that you used up all the brake air and holy shit you really are going to die, it suddenly matters, and you clutch and rev and hope to hell you get some pressure up before the curve, and you do, barely, and shit but you're glad.

When we lean in to smell Death's breath it doesn't really mean we want it for our own. And you don't need a fucking doctor but you know that.

What happened to the Kernow flag? What's LUFC, some fucking sports team?

 
At 1:51 am, Blogger Looney said...

What's LUFC, some fucking sports team?

Leeds United Football Club, wot...

 
At 8:44 am, Blogger P. said...

And you don't need a fucking doctor

Nooo. Because closing your eyes and driving real fast, when you've three fucking kids to feed back home, is completely sane. You cluewit.

Leeds

I remember when they had a footy team.

 
At 3:19 am, Anonymous $Zero said...

Argue on the bickerfest instead.

 
At 7:24 am, Blogger P. said...

Sorry. Once a cluewit, always a cluewit. I've written his name in my file-o-fax so it's official. Doesn't matter where we argue.

Although, to be fair, "argue" does imply a certain amount of joining in. Something the cluewit doesn't seem game for.

 

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