Dad was in a Non-Fatal Crash

A crash is an instant that cannot be undone. The score is kept and maintained, a quo upheld. Continued trauma with the lack of maintenance allows time itself to degrade the body. Indulgence of wants outcompetes what’s in front of you, and makes every space seem like a pillow. To today’s mind, pleasantries take the forefront to survival.

It’s important to rest, and sometimes that includes pushing the bounds of pleasure. But day drinking alone in McDonalds is past pleasure. Sleeping while drunk is not rest. The brain may encourage a reality it thinks it wants, that feels good to precede. Goodness feels safe and comfortable. Only a masochist may seek an alternative where their outcome feels worse.

A feeling is a reality, even when it conjured in a headspace. Addiction drives use. Pleasure directs traffic. Roads lead the way even when you don’t know where they go. It’s not legal, or safe, to park here, so the only option is forward. 

Cars are a chamber of consumption. The destination will be about consuming, but so is the journey. Energy to create motion, music to create drive, and light to create direction. 

Most no longer consume to survive. Opportunities to partake in pleasantries are constant and often shape our whole direction. This realm of over consumption takes precedent over our basic needs, so much so that one may find themselves complacent with a lack of needs. Or, blindsided by their own perception of needs.

I need music to drive, is at least what I tell myself. A library in my pocket; I’m paying for access to more minutes of music than I have left.

But when I get behind the wheel, I am rarely looking for a new experience. I want familiarity to ease these next moments. Searching takes time and energy, liked songs are good, I’ll queue this one up for however long my drive is. I’m already nostalgic of my third listen today, as I know one day I’ll wish I enjoyed the song this much.

Sounds of the road are not about the need for safety, anymore. The cabin is designed to tune out the outside rhythm, removing the driver from their local space between point A & B. No longer does someone have to care about the poverty they drive past - as long as their interiors are velvet. 

A begging man feels your intersection is the only way to reach you, but entering the car already removed you enough to look away. Can’t help but look at the billboards, though. They paid for your attention and our curiosity must ascertain. A glow of light feels more compelling.

It’s harder to look at a breathing sign than a dead one. Its breath comes with judgement, pride, and unpredictable emotions, all familiar feelings that feel too overwhelming to take on out of good will. We have our own set of troubles.

When the light turns green, it makes sense to press the gas. Consume a little bit more fuel to go forward, it feels right, it feels necessary. That’s the direction everyone else seems to be going.

Yet, there is no journey without a destination. Arriving there always means consuming: dinner, a film, groceries, words from a friend, work, a view, a sunset, delivery, graduation, funeral. I cannot think of a place that you don’t take things in, almost like our form is to consume. 

It feels natural, it is natural. That’s why we lack control over the things we buy, the places we go. I cannot help having a need for food, community, and to ease boredom. Advertisements are designed to make a consumer choice feel easier, familiarity drives a purchase. It feels forward, even when it is backward. 

Maslow began to understand how simply we operate, and the rest is history. A foundation needs only the strength to weather a storm, so clear skies allow a shelter to be baseless in its roots.

But there really is no history of controlling the weather. Tropical roots can be warm, but come with occasional hurricanes. Northern bases have a half year of seeking insolation. No one chooses where their roots begin and most don’t have a choice but to weather the storms that come.

Up and leaving is not a choice even with a car. Point A proceeds B or C. Changing roots can hurt all the breathing signs you’ve come to love, while finding new signs is distantly terrifying. 

Transportation allows me to take some time to seek a momentary pleasantry. At least this scenery is familiar. Before I run out of moments to listen to music I can keep the same song playing. Why change the station when I know this one? Maybe tomorrow I won’t go forward, I will take the right. But probably not, because that’s tiring and I rather rest.