sunglasses at night

So, I’m cruising down the freeway at the end of my 16-hour day. Yawning and texting while eating and driving. People are hitting their breaks and slowing down to 41mph in the middle lane of the freeway for no apparent reason. It’s any night in L.A.

I glance over at my side-view mirror. Something is hanging off of it, flapping in the wind. Looks like a eucalyptus leaf, I think. “But I haven’t driven through any low hanging brush today.” I squint, take a closer look.

It’s my $100 sunglasses. I can tell because when cars pass me, their headlights glimmer on the 1-cent safety pin that holds the sides together. I’m not sure how they got there, or how long they’ve been there. But I’m pretty sure that the only thing holding them in place is the force of the 65mph head wind. Suddenly Dennis Hopper appears, telling me that if I stop or slow down the car, the glasses will explode.

I hang tight in the left lane for a bit, while I come up with a plan. Slowly, carefully, one by one, I switch lanes to the right. Finally, just past Crenshaw, I pull into the breakdown lane and begin to slow down.

Anyone who tells you that the breakdown lane on a California freeway is a “safe” place to stop is a BFL. Those lanes are mother fuckin’ skinny. And that traffic goes fast.

As soon as my car hits exactly zero MPH, the glasses fall off. I peer down through my closed window. They are nowhere in sight. I open the door. I IMMEDIATELY close the door. Traffic is 12 inches away. And repeating that “EEEERUHHHH” noise of fast-cars-go-by. I wait for a break in the traffic, crack the door. No sign of the glasses. I consider sparing my life and abandoning the glasses, but I ultimately decide it’s not worth it.

Traffic breaks, I exit the car, bend down to the wheel, don’t see the glasses. I feel the kiss of a car-by on my ass and scurry back inside. Again, I briefly ponder prioritizing my life over the glasses. I open the car door, hit the ground, grab the glasses, run to the passenger’s side, and get back in. Alive I am, and back in the company of my protective eyewear.

Back in the safety of my car, it won’t start. Did it pick up some kind of car flu in the breakdown lane? I’m about to look under the hood for who knows what, when it dawns on me. I roll down the driver’s window, put the glasses back on the rearview mirror, start the car right up, and drive off into the moonlight.

before tommorrow.

the thing about getting old is that it is ageless. everyday the effects of yesterday are still a day away from tomorrow.

the stock market. real estate. the temperature of the earth.

there are things that move in only one direction over time.

what if there are things you can stop? and what if everyday that you don’t stop them, they just get older, closer to their perceived expiration date. what if too far gone is really only further than yesterday, but not nearly as far away as tomorrow?

worse, what if everything isn’t linear at all? what if to get to today, we have to pass through tomorrow?

you’re sitting on a beautiful couch in a beautiful house. across the room is a lamp, casting this warm glow on all the beauty around you. suddenly, the light goes out. now its dark, and you can’t see anything… but that’s ok, because when the light was on, it burned an impression in your mind’s eye of all the beauty. unfortunately, over time, the image inside you fades back to black. it happens so gradually that you barely even notice. you can’t experience the beauty, but you know its there, and somehow that seems like enough. but the truth – the real truth – is that all you see is darkness. in order to see everything beautiful again, you have to turn on the light. but you’re too lazy or too stupid or too scared to get up and walk across a dark room.

get up off your ass, cross the room, and turn on the light. just touch it. all you have to do is touch the fucking light. before tomorrow.