27.6.09
500 Miles Is A Long Drive In A Car
Sweltering heat always calls for the musical accompaniment of Modest Mouse. There's something about the music that evokes this picture of people on roadtrips during the summer, with the windows down and enduring the intense heat of landlocked roads to save gas money. When I close my eyes, this is what I see, and it makes me smile. It makes me think, I'm going to do that one day.
The first roadtrip I want to take is up the West Coast, on the Pacific Coast Highway, snuggled in between ocean and cliffs. I want to take it all the way up, as far as it will go. We'll stop at IHOPs and Waffle Houses to get hearty, fattening meals and to consult our maps. We would take turns driving and controlling the soundtrack of our epic West Coast roadtrip. At night, we'll pull over, turn the music off and get out of the car. We'll lean ourselves against the windshield and look at the stars, listening to the Pacific Ocean continuously building and breaking on dark jagged rocks. We'll stay at hostels and meet eccentric international travelers with skewed perceptions of the American ideal, and we will prove them wrong. We will have a new selection of streets to drunkenly stumble around on every other night. We will remind ourselves that we are only 23 going on 24, and it's too early for a life crisis. At the end of it, where ever we are, we will stand on something and jubilantly raise our arms on a job well done and I might yell something stupid like I FEEL INFINITE.
The first roadtrip I want to take is up the West Coast, on the Pacific Coast Highway, snuggled in between ocean and cliffs. I want to take it all the way up, as far as it will go. We'll stop at IHOPs and Waffle Houses to get hearty, fattening meals and to consult our maps. We would take turns driving and controlling the soundtrack of our epic West Coast roadtrip. At night, we'll pull over, turn the music off and get out of the car. We'll lean ourselves against the windshield and look at the stars, listening to the Pacific Ocean continuously building and breaking on dark jagged rocks. We'll stay at hostels and meet eccentric international travelers with skewed perceptions of the American ideal, and we will prove them wrong. We will have a new selection of streets to drunkenly stumble around on every other night. We will remind ourselves that we are only 23 going on 24, and it's too early for a life crisis. At the end of it, where ever we are, we will stand on something and jubilantly raise our arms on a job well done and I might yell something stupid like I FEEL INFINITE.
Soma | | # | 