071013 #copperhead I'll think some obvious thoughts about perspective and the billions of stars and how anything could be happening out there, I mean, truly just anything at all, and a truck will roar past and I'll wonder if that guy driving the truck has any idea about what-all is going on on the fourth planet out from the the 33 and a half billionth star from the left of that arm of the Milky Way I can see from here, or if he cares, or if I care, or if we're just stuck down here thinking about our own stupid troubles--him with his load of milk in the ------ truck with its baffles to keep from sloshing around too much and sending him careening out of control on one of these sharp turns--what the fuck is a semi truck doing on this gravel road anyway?--and me with my stupid pseudo-mythological narcissistic exercise in half-denied soul-searching gone sour on one and a half beers and a late night full of fluorescent tubes and windshield-killed bugs--and maybe at some time I'll be ready to think about that and maybe I'll be alone and lonely enough for that to really turn into something despite itself, or maybe there will be someone there, and as a result words will turn into other words that I didn't even mean or think, and maybe there will be some advantage in that, but for now, I don't know, I just don't have the energy for any of it, and so instead I hit seek and hope for a station that's something other than pop pop pop pop country or commercial, but no such luck, so I crack open another idiotic beer and sing along. I'm usually not like this. I guess I really don't know exactly what's wrong with me.