call•me•jonah

i always find myself in cars. if trains were more popular i'd probably find myself there. if i was richer maybe i would fly. i forgot how much i love my jetta.

life i think. to me is like those heartbeat machines. that green line that peaks and dips with each thump. telling the doctors that you're alive. as the sun was setting i was just reaching the texas hill country outside of san antonio. above me the sky was dark grey. military battleship grey. in front was a sliver of blue light. the grey was reaching down long skinny fingers into the blue. it was drizzling like a fog. and as i drove the rain seemed to be running up my windshield instead of down.
behind me the sun bled all across the horizon. a smeary crimson stain. i pulled over. i wanted to watch the sun set forever. hit repeat and sit there. i grabbed my camera. the pentax k1000 my aunt just gave me. and pointed it westward. i couldn't get the light meter to read right. so i fiddled with it. trying to find the right shutter speed aperture setting. when i finally got it right i looked up and the sun was almost gone. i took a picture anyway.
lesson: if you see a pretty sunset. don't waste it trying to make it last forever.

maybe i'll start writing about myself in third person. i'll call myself jonah and i'll rename everyone i know. i'll create symmetry for jonah and give him direction. i'll be jonah's friend and creator and god.

jonah turned the stereo up. he sang along to crooked fingers with a passionate if unskilled voice. he tried not to think about what he sounded like. if people would tell him to shut up if they heard him. if his mom liked his voice, if his sister liked his voice, if his brother like his voice. he told himself that it was the feeling that counted. that maybe he could make someone feel something with his voice. he imagined himself singing with a guitar in hand on stage in front of a small crowd. he saw everyone leave. no not everyone, a few people stayed and listened. he told himself those people were the gold. the others the sand. and the gold would go gather more gold and he'd be a folk legend.
but he tried not to think about those things. he tried to just sing along and appreciate the hillside and the setting texas sun and the feeling.

he loved the feeling that movement brings. he looked out the driver's window at the blurred blades of grass. the slash of green and black asphalt. like a rothko, he thought. a rothko in motion. the road ahead was straight and long and narrow. like texas roads ought to be. he was thinking about the west. how far does I10 go? he didn't want to stop or turn around. he didn't to ever stop and turn around. but sometimes you can't have what you want. in boerne he caught 46 east to 281 south. back into san antonio for the night.