nasty parlour tricks

I rented a car for the weekend to drive to Chicago. I've never been there before, but I really just need to drive. I need the release. The separation and the windows down. The nowhereness and annonymity. Girls with only feet don't get that too often. I am a disestablishmentarianist and a gypsy and I've been in one place for an entire year now and one without a car. I'm soaked with metaphorical sweat from symbolic anxiety and My First Trip to Illinois might cure it.

asitwere was relating a sailing adventure the other day and mentioned the risk of being clocked by the shifting sail. He said you may need a shipmate to drill a hole in your skull to relieve the pressure.

I imagine this screaming roadtrip as me drilling my own skull-hole to relieve myself.

Perhaps an evening in the company of my boyfriend would also relieve pressure, but I'm going to have to depend on the Single Girl methods I've developed over the last... lifetime.

Remember my ramble about whether "together" is the opposite of "alone" or "apart"? And then I decided that since I don't believe in soul mates then I must simply be "alone".

That was comforting, though, because it at least meant I was whole.

"Apart" just had such a sense of incompleteness.

Well, now I'm the opposite of "alone"... and I'm "together"... it's just now I'm "apart".

And there's not a goddam thing I can do about it.