Now I want to write - how does that work?
A chunk of something dropped into my head almost full-blown about 10 minutes after this picture was taken and got worked out into some detail over the next couple of hours, dreaming down through Bowie, up into Henrietta, around the lake and over into Archer City, thru Holliday, ramming west across tangles of asphalt...
I suddenly realized I had no idea where I was.
Then standing in a small convenience store, the single non-wooden-non-falling-into-shit building in the cluster around the wide spot identified only by the Farm To Market road numbers at the four-way stop. I was sucking down a cold drink and scribbling frantically, notepad on top of the newspaper rack standing next to the front door, trying to get some of it before it got away.
Yeah. Mr Techie still writes shit down.
The two girls behind the counter were desperately trying to not be curious about what I was doing and failing terribly. "Just keeping track of gas mileage," I explained, after scribbling for about 20 minutes.
They decided to believe it.
GPS said at least three hours back home. Shit. In 105°F weather. I've really gotta start paying attention, even when the perfect ride has me zoned out into that weird floating/near-nothingness/hyper-aware state.
In Our Next Episode:
Gonna take a week or two to edit it into something useable...hoping for a good response:
aaaaand, if you used wordpress, I'd know when you posted whatever that nugget gives you!
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