I was about to say "Richard Brautigan should be my personal hero," but then I remembered that he IS my personal hero. This quote is from some interview he gave in 1981 while promoting "The Tokyo Montana Express".
Not driving is a personal decision, not a protest in a socially active way. . . . I don't dislike the modern world. I just don't have a love affair with the car.
I do think it's unacceptable that we have to walk around breathing what's left over from swamps and dinosaurs from prehistoric times. The noise pollution, hum, drone, shifting, grinding and roaring are enemies of silence and contemplation. . . .
Not driving is almost considered a character flaw in America. I just accept it cheerfully and have evolved the Zen art of nondriving. Because I've made this conscious decision not to drive, I've accepted and created a lifestyle around the fact that I do not have spontaneous movement. . . .
I'm always on the passenger sides or in the back seats and when I look at the drivers, they always seem to be enjoying themselves. It's a total mystery to me. The person who is driving always has to keep his eye on the road. Whenever I'm in a car as a passenger, I get to look out and see everything. I'm always pointing out things they can't look at. . . .
Driving is such a part of our culture that the driver's license is a more respected document than a passport. It's almost like I don't have an identity without one. . . .
My favorite form of transportation is walking anywhere with somebody I love. I've never gotten a parking ticket for walking and I don't need a license. I take buses, cabs, airplanes and sometimes I hitchhike. I don't care if I get wet. . . .
Maybe I'm an anachronism--not of the past but of the future. A portent. The days of the automobile are numbered . . . I don't think the internal-combustion engine has a great future. . . . Who knows, maybe five years from now I'll be driving alongside Paul Newman at some raceway. Stranger things have happened.
Of the many outrageously stupid things I am asked to do as an Administrative Assistant, none are so irritating as the traditional Mailing of Large and/or Irregularly-Shaped Personal Christmas Gifts. The way I see it, if you can't mail your own gifts - I mean, you write down the addresses on a Post-It, which actually takes MORE time as to actually write it on the box itself - then you don't deserve to have an assistant.
Jervo210: i'm not sure that today could move any slower.
Jervo210: considering how quickly yesterday seemed to go.
jdixon: yesterday was as quick as something that would be considered very slow, like a turtle or a snail of some sort.
Jervo210: not so for me. i thought yesterday moved quite rapidly, like something that moves fast.
jdixon: i am experiencing the opposite, where today is the day that i would compare to something that moves fast.
Jervo210: like a turtle that had smoked crack and was hurtled off a downward-titling slope, yes?
jdixon: yes, perhaps one even sporting an ignited rocket in its rear cavity.
jdixon: (that was to the fast slope reference)
Jervo210: one would hope.
Jervo210: today to me seems to be like the afore-mentioned turtle lying helpless and prone on his back, with the sun beating down on his exposed belly and causing him to scream like a little girl turtle.
Jervo210: this talk we are having about the relative appearance of time and how fast it moves has not yet accomplished the task I had hoped it would, namely, to speed things up a bit.
jdixon: yes, time is beginning to stand still, as if a cork was inserted into the lower digestive tract of time.
jdixon: ? i have no idea what any of that even attempted to mean.
Jervo210: unless you meant that time was expanding like the lower digestive tract after eating a Mexican lunch.
Jervo210: if time were to fart, that would raise an interesting question as to the relative speed post-fart.
jdixon: yes, it wants to move forward toot sweet, but is helpless as the whatever the fuck
Jervo210: i think your brain melted