santa monica dream

[methrowrock]

I want long road trips in a rickety, bashed-up chunk of moving metal. I want to be surrounded by golden meadows and silvery brooks that go on for miles and miles. I want to follow the white arrow that points and stretches far ahead into the unknown, unknown lands filled with intrigue and oily hamburgers and neon signboard motels. I want to listen to songs over and over again with that other thirds or fourths who make me whole until we can head-bang to every odd beat and croon along lovingly in gruesome falsettos. I want to be stranded in heavy thunderstorms with them and worry about how we may never survive it, but awake to a rainbow shooting out from the middle of cornfields. I want adventures by driving into the dirtpaths and making a U-turn after an hour, because there are reasons why certain dirtpaths remain only dirtpaths. I want stories to tell for a lifetime, like the beer-guzzling competition that led us to be thrown out, because alcohol awakes so-and-so's superhuman strength and violently unpredictable mood-swings. I want the stuff of Hollywood coming-of-age movies, with the misunderstandings and the solutions and the new-found respect for each other's lifestyle and background and hope-burning-bright-as-we-look-distantly-into-the-horizon. I want LEGEN-wait for it-DARY!s and True Stories about how AWESOME things were and lickings of the Liberty Bell. But what I want most is to not want so many wants. It is unhealthy, it is unproductive, it is useless. I really did want to post about Away We Go, Precious and After Shock and how university life has been, but with a darned twitching under a right eye and a lecture in five hours, another day would be best, hehe.