“An overdue book from 1971? This is a joke, right?”

The Outsider, by Stephen King

I finished reading, The Outsider, by Stephen King.  I read it over the course of two days because it wouldn’t leave me alone.  Stephen King is just showing off at this point.  He’s cracked the passwords to our private fear vaults, and rifled through that old shit we only think about in nightmares.  Then he baited the novels hook with psychological crack.  Even the artwork on the cover got me.

I didn’t get much sleep between readings.  At least not the type that leaves me feeling rested.  I had vivid stress dreams, but couldn’t remember them when I awoke.  My usual trigger of being stuck in an impossible-to-survive situation, no doubt.  Despite this, I’m glad I read it.  It will take some pondering time to nail down what I gained from the book, but I suspect it’s a better understanding of people.

Before The Outsider, I read The Plantagenets: The Warrior Kings and Queens Who Made England, by Dan Jones.  I learned a lot, and am surprised how much I enjoyed it.  It’s closer to a textbook than I usually read for pleasure.  (I heard the narration in the voice of Robin Leach because the author was also delightfully snarky.)  I’m such a doof.

curious kitten

I also produce the movie of whatever novel I’m reading in my head as I go.  I pick the cast using famous actors I favor.  Usually, Lupita Nyong’o, Charlize Theron, Rosario Dawson, Regina King, and Natalie Portman are in everything.  So are Denzel Washington, Tom Hanks, and Matt Damon.  Excellence is like play-doh.  You can mold it to any form.  And I still suck at analogies.  🙃

Now I’m reading a hilarious novel titled, The 100-Year-Old-Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared, by Jonas Jonasson.  It reminds me of Forrest Gump, so far.  It’s going to get me in trouble for laughing so hard after 11 PM.  I’m surprised by how (emotionally) uninvested I am in the characters while still enjoying it so much, though.  It’s likely to change as I read further.  (I hope.)

I’m guessing there’s a hidden symbolic character sucking up all my likes.  As much as I read, I don’t think of myself as a lit geek, because it takes me a while to recognize all the cool stuff in well-written novels;  like irony and hidden symbolic characters.  Let’s blame it on saccharin.  🤫  My band has a gig tonight, so I’m trying to fend off that bitch, Anxiety.  I’m winning, but the adrenalin is still releasing against my will.  I’m relying on the likelihood, whatever happens, will probably seem funny at this time tomorrow.  💜

“You know, he came by here at 3 o’clock in the morning to pick up the tape. I was scared out of my mind!”

cornfield on a sunny day

I guess I’m done messing with the design of this blog for a while.  Unfortunately, I seem to have broken several things in the process, much to my frustration.  I should have known better than to touch it with a hijacked brain.  As I recover, I recognize more things that are missing.  I’m a bit surprised I noticed, considering.  I’ll have a go at fixing shit when I’m back on my feet.  Hopefully, it didn’t mess with anyone, (else.)

Amelia Bedelia is not interested in accompanying me on my road trip.  She cried on the test run.  I only have one job:  Make sure she’s happy.  I guess being in a carrier for more than a few minutes sucks.  I know, a bit of forethought would have saved me the time and agony of hearing her cry.  Yo, Hindsight.  Go lay by your bowl, dammit.

I’m getting both nervous and excited about my upcoming road trip.  Apparently, I’m terrified of encountering road construction.  Driving in the midwest sucks in the first place because it’s so flat and dull.  I guess that’s why they call it The Great Plains.  Heh.  Having the rules of the road change with a short warning is challenging when you treat your car like a sound booth and let the music take you.  I’m hoping I can check online where to be careful before I embark.

I’m not driving past Sioux City (ever again) because they put cement barriers right on the edge of the highway when there’s construction.  It’s too close to your vehicle, and when you’re going 50+ MPH, a sneeze could end you (and many behind you) in that situation.  It’s like playing a twisted, high-speed game of Chicken for no reason.  Nope.

I need the whole lane to be free of barriers when I drive.  Call me picky.  I plan on going west a bit, then south through Nebraska.  If I see anything super cool, I’ll try to remember to take a picture.  (I’ve never even made a selfie, and it’s the midwest, so expect accordingly.)  I can’t see for shit, so I’m not very visual.  I navigate by sound and intuition.  I also have lots of bruises most of the time because I bump into shit often.  Heh.

You know how you feel right after you’ve had a full-blown weep fest?  The post-crying, post-face-washing time, where your breath still catches every few minutes?  I’m stuck there.  I’m hoping to shake free while I take this short trip.  I can’t be away from Amelia Bedelia for more than five days;  it hurts my heart.  I don’t know what my driving stamina is yet.  It’s been a while since I traveled by car.

I resent the shit out of passenger trains for not bothering to include South Dakota.  I think Omaha is the closest place I can go to start a train trip.  Or I could steal a ride on one of the many trains hauling other shit from Sioux Falls, but the accommodations aren’t up to my standards.  I need transportation that’s legal and reasonably safe for a woman.  See?  Picky.  I do plan on taking a train from Omaha to (somewhere cool in) California in the future.

scarecrow in a cornfield

For now, this trip is just a test run to see how I do.  I’m aiming for Wyoming.  I’ve never been there, and it looks beautiful online.  If I turn out to be excellent at driving on the highway, I’d like to go to the Four Corners Monument.  Otherwise, there’s probably some neat stuff in Nebraska to entertain me on the way.  Besides cornfields, because I read a lot of Stephen King novels.  Although, I’ll probably run around in one at some point just to scare myself alert.  (A little gift from the King of horror.  Muwahahahaha)  I’m off to beat my drums.