In another age, a decade ago or maybe just yesterday I used to drive aimlessly through the city when I wanted distance. Distance between me and my thoughts.
These days I cannot bear to sit in my car anymore. Those days it was my car in every aspect. The little dent in the rear where I used to lean while I filled it with gas. The ridiculous red stripes on the side, the loose windshield wipers, and even the many clothes in the back.
I got a new car now, not really mine. It’s nicer, than the old one I suppose. Not that I care.
Now, when I look for distraction, I surf the web. I want to write that I surf my own brainwaves. But to write that would be nonsense. Nonsense, like staring into my phone all day and actually answering it when it finally rings. We don’t do nonsense anymore, that would be inefficient. Voicemail is good enough.
No, I am not here. Nor there. How much does location even matter in a world in which we are mobile like never before, but glued behind some screen most of the day?
What matters is not clear, not sure if it ever was. Numbers seem more important than ever, but then why do I have to get my calculator out to add 16 and 25?
I long for my old car, driving through dark streets, released from time and purpose. Today it would be a waste of gas. Sleep is important as well.
Pouring some rum into my coffee suddenly sounds like a great idea. But then I cannot drive. Was that ever an option?
I look at my phone. For some reason, I don’t want to see “mixers with rum and coffee” on my big-ass screen. I open a new document and start full screen mode on my monitor. All white. So simple. I turn the phone over and pour me some rum without coffee into a glass. The apple taunts me: “What do you know about square holes?” All I see is a white square over a white background. And then I see words, many words, in fact, all the words I will write over the next two hours or days. It does not matter. They have arrived.