spaces between the happiness and the hardness

"so would you call... 
my name
if i try... try, my best, 
my best
would you remember... remember my face
if i try... try... my best, my best"  Lilly Wood & The Prick, My Best.

i got many things in my head.


what the hell am i doing. 
maintain, train
hands clean, red lipstick on

take off on the monday
wind whistling, turn up
make it to friday
self-made


I love driving, today I hated it. I used to love that salt breeze, no signal, over the bridge pass the casino, onto surrealism. Today I hated it. My windscreen crusted with salt, my personality just as useless. To the airport to drop a Swiss friend off - onto the world he goes, onto the return I go.  I hated it. Off ramp, meretricious indicator noise, the loudness of my life longed to live but not happening. Looming, approaching, another bridge. I hated that my instincts were opposing my intended direction.  Turn left, the sooner option? Coastal infatuation. The wrong direction. Keep driving, hating it, keep going, turn right. Yes right but southbound, this is the space between happiness and the hardness. Little moment that rendered me gasping, verged on what I assume is a hypochondriac's anxiety attack. Verged on the appeal of a handbrake turn and a race back bolting north. But that's what it will be. A handbrake, turn in the wrong direction. 
Keep going south, keep driving.  

I'd circumnavigate the world if I could get back to you.