| Oh Joy! | ||
| 2000-08-03 || here's sand in your eye | ||
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I don�t really have any sort of fond memories of the beach. The sand all over my feet and legs. The smell of the ocean, the salt water. I try to never go to the beach now. I try to avoid the beach. In the daytime. I haven�t been to the beach in the daytime in years. I don�t feel comfortable with the water coming at me like that. I don�t have any fond memories of my summers on the beach. I don�t have any fond memories of what it felt like to hold a little crab in my hand only to smash it with a rock a minute later. None of that stuff from when I was that young is in my head anymore. Nothing good there to remember. Days soaking up sun, splashing water, going home and hosing the sand off my legs. I hate the ocean. It�s too big. I can�t stand in front of the ocean and feel comfortable. It scares me, it�s way too much to deal with that ocean. The ocean is like everything around me right now, it�s way too big. When I think of being on a beach that�s all I can think of is being uncomfortable. I don�t think of anything good. Nothing good has ever happened at the beach, or in the ocean. Get it out of my life. I don�t think I will ever go into the ocean for as long as I live. There is no need for me to be there with the creatures and bathing suits and empty budweiser cans. It�s a big party I never wanted to be invited to in the first place. It�s the place that turns me into the 1:36 am person. It�s the place that turns me into the lonely Wednesday night in Nashville guy, it�s the place that reminds me of nothing. The place that reminds me of something I don�t want to remember. I can�t stop having dreams near it. Dreams of fucking sluts in the back of my car, girls from the wrong side of the tracks, and dreams of taking them to the beach. They love the beach. All of the sluts in the world love going to the beach. I can�t dream about the beach anymore. I certainly don�t like it in dreams, and I certainly don�t like it in real life. It reminds me, not of sluts in the back seat of my car, but of darkness in me. It reminds me of something that I don�t need to be reminded of. I like driving my car over the hot asphalt in the summer. I like the way the hot winds blow on my face with all the windows open. I like the dry heat. I like the humidity. I don�t want that ocean breeze blowing sluts into my face though. I don�t want to sail away into the horizon. I like driving my car on the dry land.
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