I frequently drive aimlessly around with my new girlfriend.   She's all about scenery and laughing and companionable silence.   She's all about talking, too, but doesn't worry if we aren't.

We do this so often, in the time of pandemic and social distancing, that I created an "Aimless Driving Mix" on my phone. 
of course it's awesome. 
duh.

We see angry, butch dwarves smoking cigarettes by the side of the road with  giantess'.
Monks in full monk-garb, doing yard work at their place, mystifyingly situated in a tiny blinking light town that offers nothing else.
We've seen shipwrecks in yards; Amish buggies sticking ass end out of the woods, in what appeared to be an amish version of red neck yard dump.  
An old lady standing in her large yard with a tiny bottle of round up, spraying 1/4 acre of weeds one weed at a time...…

It gets so we're a bit disappointed if we don't see SOMETHING....


Was driving in a county not my own, last night.  It's... nearby.

And one I was once more familiar with, than I am now.

Somone's spending a LOT of money on signs, in hopes that they're elected to be the county prosecuting attorney.

It seems like a miserable fucking job, ESPECIALLY in the county in question.  I'd like to be exposed to the dregs, ALL THE TIME, of a county known for... dregs. 
I want to eat, drink, sleep, fuck, breathe... the dregs of this county.  At their... dreggiest.  

(Yeah, I just made that word up.  my blog, friends.   I can do that....)


Then I wondered:  How much self righteous fury would one individual have to possess to get excited about prosecuting societal dregs for the rest of their life?

Doesn't seem like a hugger.

Several Random turns in middle of nowhere, picking pavement over dirt at various intersections, and all the sudden, I was.. there.  Upon it.    

An old, oblong, barn.  one I hadn't seen in almost 5.5 years, and hadn't thought about in as long.
It was my favorite intersection on my way to the old job.  I believe I posted pics of it, labeling it as such, at the time.    Little did any of you know that favorite intersection on my way to THAT job, was like being the nicest guy in prison....  


But there it was.
And for a moment, I experienced the same fear and depression and panic I used to experience, every morning, at that intersection.   
It was the last choice I had, every morning, back in the day. Turn left, go to hell. turn any other way, lose my job.  
Decisions, decisions...

Less than a second later, all of it had passed, and I was left, at the intersection, surprised by my visceral reaction, all these years later.    And I certainly knew which way NOT to go.

"If you were a child" the therapist told me at the end of our first session, 5.5 years ago,
"I'd have to call DCFS. You're being abused."

Maybe I should not be all that surprised by my reaction, after all.
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