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12/3/2007 at 5:47 PM

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Test Snippet - Reeling in the Saps

7/22/2007 at 1:04 PM

Except for the tourists, everybody knows the sun is a bitch. It's always a fight with that big, sweaty tit; a fight to see, to hydrate, to get motivated to leave the fucking house at all during the day. Yet I drive forward, right back into Florida. And she knows. With her bad, hot breath she knows I’m coming back in the same shape I was in the first time I sped these numbing, endless roads; with my tail between my legs and not a pot to piss in.

It’s been fifteen, eighteen hours on the road so far. I’m not quite sure how long, but I’m tired and I’m beyond worrying about that. My neck is stiff and my bladder fills and empties and my eyes play tricks on me, but I’m beyond worrying about that too. I’ve got my flask in the door pocket and a tape player in the backseat, and it’s a goddamned good, free, tired feeling like I haven’t felt in a long time. It feels like control, and that’s always the top of the world for a man with nothing, even if it’s brief.

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