The car hums along, away from where I was before and the radio refuses to cooperate and play anything I can sing along to that matches the blank and vacuous mood I seem to be in so early this morning. Yakyakyak. Jocks spew on about gossip, sports-hockey strangely enough. No one ever talks about hockey. Just like nobody says porpoise. Random random random. Houses fly by, plastic bags swim like fish into the trees behind the exhaust of a city bus. Petulant children slowly walk to school like the Baton Death March because its a weekday.
Frustrated by the lack of sufficient tuneage on my radio and unwilling to be disappointed by the selection in the cd player I turn it off and listen to the street. For no good god damned reason it occurs to me that one day, I will die. Like really die. Leave my children and the lives they create. Die and never have sex again. Die and never cook my famously delicious Pig on Pig thing. Die and will probably still wonder if I made a mistake. Die and wonder if I missed every chance. Die and still be bummed about my flabby stomach.
You know, just die. Like dead. Der. Yes,yes, yes. I know, I know, I know. We all die. But wait a second. I’LL DIE. Me. I will, cease to exist eventually. Probably sooner than later considering I am almost 40. I am sure I am at least half way done. Maybe less.
Driving seemed pointless at that point but the person behind me honking pulled me back into now. I drove home a new route, cause I had never driven that way before. I had pie for breakfast which does nothing to thwart my loathing of my flabby stomach but pie tastes good. Pie was right now. Pie seemed like a good idea and on that roll of good ideas I sat down to think of some more.