Last night I was bouncing off the fucking walls. That's right. I said fucking. Why? Well, what am I to do when the walls are copulating. Sure, there are better words. Coitus. Love-Making. Intercourse. But let's face it, walls don't really know much about love.
Anyway, as I was bouncing off the copulating walls, I was also phoning all my acquaintances who might be interested in a late night latte. There weren't many. Most were out of state, didn't stay up late, or couldn't receive phone calls at such ungodly hours as ten forty-five p.m. Past Morning. Those douches. No, they're not really douches. I wouldn't give hugs to douches and I hug all my friends. I couldn't find one person who would appreciate a late night latte in Anderson or even Greenville. Hell, I didn't even want to stay in Anderson.
I walked into the dark common room. Kelli was in Dan's room on the phone. Dan was in Boston. I jumped up and down, but the floors weren't as active as the walls. I grabbed the car keys and walked into the back room.
I'm going for a drive I announced. Kelli asked me if I was okay.
Bored out of my skull is all... she nodded and I departed, stopping in my room for my CD's and my journal.
Sparky is a wonderful car to drive in. Smooth driving, good control for a mini-van. I decided to find out just where US 29 went to. To hell with maps!!!! Chai latte in hand, (thanks, Joe) I drove down US 29 and towards the Lake Hartwell dam on the Savannah River. To be honest, I'd never been past it. I'd never even really seen the side of the dam. Just the top. I rarely looked at that. Often times there was, quite honestly, better scenery to be had. You see, I enjoy skinny dipping at the dam. As I drove past the dam and across the Savannah River, I was slightly awed by the giant, water holding backing, glowing monstrosity to my right. I might've driven off the road and, consequently into the Savannah River, but I refocused my gaze to the road ahead. Who knew where it would lead? Oh, well we all know it lead to Hartwell, Georgia. There are only twenty seven signs to see, but regardless, this was an exciting road trip for me and Matt Nathanson.
--- I'm covered by lovers, who recite lines
convinced their bodies are gonna save mine
but you don't know me at all ---
He sung to me sweetly through the speakers and I sang with him, wishing I sounded better. There was, wonderfully, no one around to hear. We sang together until we reached Hartwell.
It is quite a cute, quaint little town. I now wonder what it looks like with light and people, but it was a sweet little downtown avec or sans the light and people. Through downtown Hartwell, many highways converge. 51, 77, 29, and many others. The bright green signs were eager to inform me that, if I so desired, I could follow 77N for eighteen miles to The Highway. Yes, you heard me right: The Highway. Such a highway which will lead you to wonderful villages as Charlotte or Atlanta. If one remained on The Highway, one might even find Richmond or Birmingham! Yes, it is I-85 that I speak of.
I followed the two lane highway until I saw The Highway. I'd been here before! I'd gotten gas and potato chips on my way to Atlanta here last winter. I embraced the exit like an old friend. It deposited me on The Highway at mile marker 178. I was 2 miles from South Carolina, 21 miles from Anderson, and 44 miles from Greenville.
It was then that I decided to go to Greenville. I craved the sweet nectar known as a smoothie. Glancing at the clock, I grew nervous. It was twelve fifteen a.m. After Midnight. Still, I pressed on. I'm pressing on. Pressing on, All my distress is going, going gone. Pressing on, pressing on. Yes, just like in that Reliant K song. I pleaded with the gods above and the powers that be that some lone harbinger of smoothies might still be in operation upon my arrival to Greenville.
I drove the forty-five miles, switching at some point from Matt Nathanson to Howie Day. I whispered the lyrics back to him. --- And you wont feel a thing, and you wont recall anything at all --- I switched from The Highway to the two-lane 185, continuing the night's trend of following US 29. I took it all the way to the raucous streets of downtown Greenville. People of all cultures and believes gather on these streets. All the stereo-types: the bible thumping "BoJo's", the posh pretentios pricks, the wanna-be neo hippies, punks, glam goths, preps, those who don't really know who they are, and those who don't give a damn. I, personally, tried to be in the crowd that didn't give a damn. Yes, it's funny how that works, isn't it?
I found my feet carrying me to the place with the highest concentration of the mixed peoples. Coffee Underground. I soon stood at the door, alternating glances inside the coffee bar to glances at the young couple who were stareing through the glass door with baleful stares. The young man with strikingly Drew-Miller-esque hair and style was insisting that they weren't supposed to close for another fifteen minutes and he demanded coffee. The girl, who had stepped out of a Abercrombie and Fitch imitator ad, watched him. Upon inquiry, she informed me that the Blue Z Cafe was open until two am. The Blue Z Cafe, I knew, had delightful smoothies. I returned to Sparky and traveled down Main street.
The Blue Z Cafe was dark. There was one car in the lot. There was also a man who was at the door locking it, which explained the car. I sighed. I called Jake. Surely he had ice and strawberries and a blender.
Hello, you've reached Jake Ca-- I hung up the phone and I continued driving.
From Stone Avenue, I took a very round about way to The Highway. Lowndes Hill to Haywood to Laurens. Stone Avenue does turn into Laurens, but that was an expected way to get there.
I shook my head. So much for my quest. I continued the nights trend again and took US 29 to my humble abode. It was two a.m. After Midnight. Just the time I had planned on getting home. I had to get up at nine a.m. to participate in the Walk with the Docs in the morning. I crawled into bed, willing Jake not to return my call and I slept peacefully until the morning light lit upon my eyelids.
--- show me where the sun comes through the sky
i'll show you where the rain gets in and i'll show you hurricanes
and they way that summer fades...
underneath the weight of it all ---
Anyway, as I was bouncing off the copulating walls, I was also phoning all my acquaintances who might be interested in a late night latte. There weren't many. Most were out of state, didn't stay up late, or couldn't receive phone calls at such ungodly hours as ten forty-five p.m. Past Morning. Those douches. No, they're not really douches. I wouldn't give hugs to douches and I hug all my friends. I couldn't find one person who would appreciate a late night latte in Anderson or even Greenville. Hell, I didn't even want to stay in Anderson.
I walked into the dark common room. Kelli was in Dan's room on the phone. Dan was in Boston. I jumped up and down, but the floors weren't as active as the walls. I grabbed the car keys and walked into the back room.
I'm going for a drive I announced. Kelli asked me if I was okay.
Bored out of my skull is all... she nodded and I departed, stopping in my room for my CD's and my journal.
Sparky is a wonderful car to drive in. Smooth driving, good control for a mini-van. I decided to find out just where US 29 went to. To hell with maps!!!! Chai latte in hand, (thanks, Joe) I drove down US 29 and towards the Lake Hartwell dam on the Savannah River. To be honest, I'd never been past it. I'd never even really seen the side of the dam. Just the top. I rarely looked at that. Often times there was, quite honestly, better scenery to be had. You see, I enjoy skinny dipping at the dam. As I drove past the dam and across the Savannah River, I was slightly awed by the giant, water holding backing, glowing monstrosity to my right. I might've driven off the road and, consequently into the Savannah River, but I refocused my gaze to the road ahead. Who knew where it would lead? Oh, well we all know it lead to Hartwell, Georgia. There are only twenty seven signs to see, but regardless, this was an exciting road trip for me and Matt Nathanson.
--- I'm covered by lovers, who recite lines
convinced their bodies are gonna save mine
but you don't know me at all ---
He sung to me sweetly through the speakers and I sang with him, wishing I sounded better. There was, wonderfully, no one around to hear. We sang together until we reached Hartwell.
It is quite a cute, quaint little town. I now wonder what it looks like with light and people, but it was a sweet little downtown avec or sans the light and people. Through downtown Hartwell, many highways converge. 51, 77, 29, and many others. The bright green signs were eager to inform me that, if I so desired, I could follow 77N for eighteen miles to The Highway. Yes, you heard me right: The Highway. Such a highway which will lead you to wonderful villages as Charlotte or Atlanta. If one remained on The Highway, one might even find Richmond or Birmingham! Yes, it is I-85 that I speak of.
I followed the two lane highway until I saw The Highway. I'd been here before! I'd gotten gas and potato chips on my way to Atlanta here last winter. I embraced the exit like an old friend. It deposited me on The Highway at mile marker 178. I was 2 miles from South Carolina, 21 miles from Anderson, and 44 miles from Greenville.
It was then that I decided to go to Greenville. I craved the sweet nectar known as a smoothie. Glancing at the clock, I grew nervous. It was twelve fifteen a.m. After Midnight. Still, I pressed on. I'm pressing on. Pressing on, All my distress is going, going gone. Pressing on, pressing on. Yes, just like in that Reliant K song. I pleaded with the gods above and the powers that be that some lone harbinger of smoothies might still be in operation upon my arrival to Greenville.
I drove the forty-five miles, switching at some point from Matt Nathanson to Howie Day. I whispered the lyrics back to him. --- And you wont feel a thing, and you wont recall anything at all --- I switched from The Highway to the two-lane 185, continuing the night's trend of following US 29. I took it all the way to the raucous streets of downtown Greenville. People of all cultures and believes gather on these streets. All the stereo-types: the bible thumping "BoJo's", the posh pretentios pricks, the wanna-be neo hippies, punks, glam goths, preps, those who don't really know who they are, and those who don't give a damn. I, personally, tried to be in the crowd that didn't give a damn. Yes, it's funny how that works, isn't it?
I found my feet carrying me to the place with the highest concentration of the mixed peoples. Coffee Underground. I soon stood at the door, alternating glances inside the coffee bar to glances at the young couple who were stareing through the glass door with baleful stares. The young man with strikingly Drew-Miller-esque hair and style was insisting that they weren't supposed to close for another fifteen minutes and he demanded coffee. The girl, who had stepped out of a Abercrombie and Fitch imitator ad, watched him. Upon inquiry, she informed me that the Blue Z Cafe was open until two am. The Blue Z Cafe, I knew, had delightful smoothies. I returned to Sparky and traveled down Main street.
The Blue Z Cafe was dark. There was one car in the lot. There was also a man who was at the door locking it, which explained the car. I sighed. I called Jake. Surely he had ice and strawberries and a blender.
Hello, you've reached Jake Ca-- I hung up the phone and I continued driving.
From Stone Avenue, I took a very round about way to The Highway. Lowndes Hill to Haywood to Laurens. Stone Avenue does turn into Laurens, but that was an expected way to get there.
I shook my head. So much for my quest. I continued the nights trend again and took US 29 to my humble abode. It was two a.m. After Midnight. Just the time I had planned on getting home. I had to get up at nine a.m. to participate in the Walk with the Docs in the morning. I crawled into bed, willing Jake not to return my call and I slept peacefully until the morning light lit upon my eyelids.
--- show me where the sun comes through the sky
i'll show you where the rain gets in and i'll show you hurricanes
and they way that summer fades...
underneath the weight of it all ---
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