*story bit*

It was late as she was driving down Highway 2 toward 40th street, planning to go home but unwilling at the same time. There was a song in her stereo, something she’d had for a while but had never heard before that night. The music built at the end with driving guitars and loud cymbals crashing. For a few seconds, she was completely lost in it.
As she turned onto 40th street, she still hadn’t decided what she was going to do. As she passed the street that led toward her home, she didn’t slow down. I’m being an idiot, she thought, feeling wasteful as she imagined how much gas she was going to waste just driving around.
She used to drive around all the time. Her old friends loved to drive around, smoking cigarettes, listening to music. They did it all night. They drove out to Exit 421 on the interstate and into the little town down the road. There were twists and turns in that little place, but after a few years of driving them, she knew them all. She had found a favorite place on the side of a dirt road at the top of a hill just outside of town.
The last night she’d driven out there it had been raining. There was a thunderstorm in progress, and spindly lightning claws darted out from the sky, touching down to earth momentarily before they disappeared. She had gotten out of the car and had stood motionless in the rain, letting the rain soak her clothes. Jon had stayed in her car. Maybe she had been foolish, and maybe getting soaked in the rain had been childish. But that strange pain in her chest had subsided in the rush.
They had been listening to a different song that night, but the feelings were the same. She felt a strange tightness in her chest, like someone had her heart in his grip and was squeezing it. Grasping tightly to the steering wheel, she aimed south.
The road she was on could take her all the way to Saltillo road, but she knew she didn’t want to go that far. As she passed Pine Lake road, she could see the bright lights of the new Super Target, built at the corner of 40th and Yankee Hill. It seemed only a few years ago that Yankee Hill road had been considered “outside town”, but not these days. This road defined the new city limit. Wow, this town had grown.
There had been a year when she was away. Far across the ocean, she sat and thought about the city she had left behind. She sat many nights in the dark in that place, where it was dark all the time, and listened to her music. Darkness and music were becoming inextricably linked for her. When she really thought about it, she’d been doing this ever since she could remember – running out to where she was alone to listen to music.
She began looking for places along the side of the road where the darkness could hide her and where she could pull off the road and sit on her car. This place wasn’t far, and she pulled her car over and relaxed.
There was nothing around her but power lines and fields. She didn’t know what they were growing, but it looked like it had been corn once. Either way, she hoped she’d be alone for a while. She turned her car onto the battery and started the song over. She took a deep breath and got out of her car.
She was always worried about sitting on her car and denting it. Her caution was dispelled by the thrill of being in the quiet country. Behind her the glow of the city lit the horizon, so she turned and faced the sky, folding her hands behind her head and resting her feet on the hood so she wouldn’t slide off.
The moon was almost full. It glowed bright above her, and she sat there watching it. She could see the face everyone talked about – the man in the moon. She found the little dipper away to the right. To see the big dipper, she had to crane her neck back. It wasn’t hard to find Orion’s belt, but she didn’t know many of the constellations. That was something she’d always wanted to learn.
A set of headlights appeared down the road as she lay there. She didn’t see them right away, but noticed the reflection in her windshield. Turning suddenly, she felt her heart begin to pound. She grabbed her phone and pretended to be on the phone as the car sped past her. She was always terrified that someone would stop and ask her why she was out there. It seemed so incredibly intrusive. Five seconds ago she had been in her own world, and someone had just come along and broken down the door. That was how it felt.
She climbed back into her car and started the engine. Her revelry had been broken by those lights. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the car back onto the road and drove back the way she had come, the sound of the her tires on the asphalt drowning out the intrinsic beauty of the song. She felt an ounce of regret as she passed the Super Target, and glancing out through her windows, a feeling of alienation crept over her as she realized these drives and these places weren’t part of her life any more.

*back*

Here we go again. I think I should start keeping track of how many times I've stopped and restarted this blog, but thanks to Gunter I remembered that I've always liked Blogger better than Facebook or Myspace. I kind of hate both of those websites (even though I use them pretty frequently).

Here's something for you: a piece of my most recent paper, "Boxing with the Awesomeness"

I’ve chosen a particularly special night to visit this fairly eclectic bar; only a week earlier, a woman died suddenly, and in her honor, several of her friends’ bands put together a memorial show. The cover charge would go toward the funeral expenses. The woman taking money at the door is swaying slightly as I approach her, ID in hand. Once approved for entry, she pulls out a bright blue wristband, designed specifically for the Box Awesome. As I walk toward the bar, I examine the lettering in the dim light. “Box Awesome because someday you will lose your hearing anyway.” Smiling to myself, I take up a post at the end of the bar and order a drink.
Brenton and Allison are sitting casually at the bar while the last band sets up their equipment. Allison, a former employee, is enjoying a local brew while Brenton, a soundman and occasional bartender, peruses a magazine. His intent stare is only interrupted by an occasional flip of a page. Suddenly, he turns to me.
“Those are the new speakers we’re buying. It’s the same system the Qwest Center has, only they have, like, thirty of these things,” Brenton says, pointing to a picture of a speaker that, to a sound system illiterate person like myself, seems altogether unremarkable.
“I’m so stoked, dude. They’re going to be here this week.” I can see Allison glancing over at him, obviously bemused by his excitement. As I hand over a five dollar bill to the bartender, Allison begins reminiscing.
“Do you remember the night when that shelf broke?” she asks Brenton, tapping him on the shoulder while simultaneously indicating the glass shelf above the cash register where a variety of colorful liquor was lined up in a jagged row. Brenton didn’t even look up before replying with an emphatic, “Yeah!” Turning to me, he fills me in, “The shelf broke one night, and all that booze nearly crashed on Allison. It was fucking scary.”
“Yeah, I guess I could’ve died,” she recalls, taking a sip of her beer. The idea of death seemed slightly irreverent suddenly, and we all returned to sitting silently. Soon, this silence was interrupted by the loud squeal of an electric guitar. Brenton glances over at the stage where a band is setting up.
“I’ve only cried twice while I was working sound here,” Brenton explains, leaning close to me to share his story, “Tonight, during that one song…uh, Sunshine. I think everyone was crying, during that one. Everybody loved Amy.” When asked about the other time, he grins and shrugs.
“Back in November, this band did a show here, and at the end, the bass player proposed to his girlfriend. They played this song and showed a video. Yeah, I was tearing up a little.”
“Oh, I remember that night,” Allison adds, “they played with this crazy Irish punk band.” As the band begins to play again, Brenton puts down the magazine and gets up.
“If you want, I can show you the sound booth,” he offers, downing the rest of his drink before turning to go. I follow him through the array of show-goers away from the hanging lights above the bar into the darkness around the stage. People barely notice us as we head toward the sound booth. The structure is several feet above everyone’s heads, and a short ladder has been set up against the side. As Brenton crawls up to the little booth, I follow, glancing out over the crowd. The whole stage is glowing red as the band begins to play.
When I reach the top, Brenton begins explaining the sound board in hushed tones. I’m not a technically minded person, so most of the information is over my head, but as he speaks, he also plays with the knobs and fiddles with the volume. To the left of the sound board is another strange device that controls the light system. After a quick tutorial, he lets me take the reins. Each slider and button controls a different set of lights, and soon I’m leading a light show while a rock band plays to the memory of someone I’ll never know.