Day 049 – I’d Rather Fly Over Pennsylvania [Friday Thought W/ TeeCoZee]
Good Moleman. Don’t blame me, I voted for a demmycrat. It’s Friday, November 6, Insert Year Here. The weather in Brooklyn is 66° & Pantone 16-3922 and somewhere, somebody is hearing a song for the first time. They pay attention to every beat, every chord. They cling on to every word. Every rhythm change. What is this brand new song that they’re hearing? How did they become so blessed to hear something so beautiful? Does anybody else know about this song? And me? I’m wondering how in the hell a grown ass adult is just now hearing “Stairway To Heaven” for the first time. Also, that song sucks. I also have a thing on my mind.
– This numbers game has been a slog. For the past 24 hours, the nation has watched a number shrink and shrink. And now that it’s shrunk, we’re waiting for it to expand again. It’s a futile ritual that feels all too similar. It’s a lot like driving through Pennsylvania. You’ve already traversed New Jersey or Ohio. One state down, two to go, easy peasy. If you start from Ohio, you’re not aware of the pain that’s in store. But if you’re coming from Jersey, it’s as clear as day: 310. Three Hundred and Ten fucking miles. Even if you drive 103 MPH, it’ll still take 3 hours. But the speed limit is 65 and the highway patrol is everywhere, because you decided to drive at the end of the month. There’s no radio reception. You’re already sick of your favorite podcast. Your stomach hurts. It’s 310 miles of straight malaise.
And as the miles tick away, you forget what the goal was in the first place. No matter which side you end up on, you’re still in Ohio or New Jersey, two of the shittiest states in the union. At least one has legal weed and the other has…umm…chili? Never mind, fuck them both. Toledo can suck an egg and Newark can film it. You don’t want either destination and yet, here you are in the vast purgatory, excitedly counting the miles.
Then you stop at a rest area. And you see all these people with eyes as tired as yours. There are people that live here. They have their own stories. They’re trying to get by, just like you. And yet, you only see their home as an ever-changing number. So you stop and sit in your car for a little while. Soak it all in. And then you get back on the road. Start counting again. Because just like elections, driving through big states is nothing but counting numbers.
– Try this trick over the weekend: Fly over Pennsylvania, instead. Wait. Don’t do that. We’re still in a Pandemic. Why would you vacation in a time like this? Selfish prick. I can’t believe you thought about flying over Pennsylvania.
Have a safe weekend, everyone!