I always kinda wished I looked like Elvis

August 20, 2014 § Leave a comment


E.P

E.P

The powder on the bar was just this one time, the powder on the bar” – High Lonesome. 

The night was drawing in as August began to give way to September and these evenings start to get shorter and sharper. I found myself back at it again. Pushing myself again. I know it should concern me how much harder I’m having to push myself just to feel something in my day. That dim flare lit in my blood, that light fizz that let’s me know that there’s something that’s still in there. The window’s down and the wind is rattling through the car as it pushes 100mph. I reach for the radio and drown out the engine. These country roads may not be forgiving but there’s no one else around, no bystanders here, no one to take with me should I go. I found it going into the next corner. That madness. The sweet madness I’d been chasing. 

It doesn’t feel how you think it would. It’s not like it is in the movies. When the sound drops away and the character is left in the moment. No. It’s more than that. The opposite really. In the moment that you loose control all your senses turn up. You feel the rattle and bumps in the road 10 fold to how you did but seconds before. They combine with the scene you see in front of you. A lick of road in which it looks like a strange gravity from the horizon is sucking and stretching all you can see in. And the noise? Oh you should hear the noise it makes. It doesn’t drop out, oh no, it doesn’t drop out. It comes together, all of it. From the squeal and shaking engine to the furious wind in the window to the desperation of the music; it all becomes one throbbing pulse in your ears. And these sights and sounds and sensation fold and smear into one. That how it feels when you think that you are going to die. And, if you are like me, you push it until you can push that feeling no more. 

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