January 15, 2006

Memoirs from the passenger seat.

where are we going next? i asked.

he shrugged, never taking his eyes off of the road. he changed lanes and accelerated. giving true meaning to going nowhere fast.

where have i been? i asked myself.

the whisky still burned. the dj's tables still turned. we drove north on the 101. I leaned my head against the window and watched the sports cars pass us on the right, all shiny and low to the ground. the moonlight ran across the metal in fluid lines of light. a cigarette was tossed from the long black american car in front of us and blew across the center lane like rubies rolling towards the sea; treasure or trash, depending on the point of view; secrets let out of the bag, if one was willing to listen.

i sunk down low in the passenger seat:

Somewhere my dog was sleeping by a fireplace in a farmhouse.

Somewhere my friends were sleeping with their wives.

Somewhere the d.j. was still playing.

Somewhere my friends were sleeping with their soon-to-be sons and newborn daughters.

but tonight, the highway took me towards none of those.

The other night Josh told me the human brain can only store about 4,000 words in it's vocabulary. when at capacity, the mind must forget a word in order to learn a new one.

i thought about that as i tried to keep my face from sliding down the passenger side window. words are like little memories you store up and string together like a necklace of beads to decorate the thoughts you speak. and my head is far too small to keep them all. the jewelry box in my mind is far too modest to fit all my keepsakes. but my words, like my memories, i can not prioritize. the things i try to forget won't leave. they visit me like unwelcome guests who refuse to knock on the door. they always barge in and make themselves at home. And sometimes, when i stare at my phone and see a new message, i am afraid that too many more and i will start forget the ones i wish to keep. and sometimes, when i stare at my phone and see none, i wish one would come and in, and push a bad one out the back. but i can't keep them all, and life and memory don't discriminate.

Every place i see and everything i feel stays with me like a scar that won't heal. A photograph that wont fade. Like burying a dead dog in the ground whose eyes remain open, i cannot forget things i have seen. great beauty and ardent ugliness have more similarities than differences. if, for nothing else, both cannot be forgotten easily.

I am more convinced by each place i see and person i meet that the truths in this life are not found in facts, because facts are far to finite. far too singular. truths are found in concepts. truths are found in processes. truths are found in systems. and they are expressed in metaphors, because simple words, like cheap jewelry, don't do them justice.

as it was, i sat in the passengers seat. anxiously looking ahead. curiously looking back; wondering if i had two hands on the ends of my arms not to hold two things at once, but rather to always be letting go with one while reaching with the other.

I tried my best to be only there in the seat. not by a fireplace on a farm, not with my friends, and not under a noisy ceiling fan on a snowy night. Zach changed lanes again and headed for the exit ramp.

"Let's go downtown." he said.

"Sounds like a great idea." i replied.

[*In other words: Hear-"The Other Side" by J. Ritter. (iTunes)]

Posted by Todd Roeth at January 15, 2006 03:58 PM