Nerve Impulse Part 3

Posted: September 22, 2008 in Beauty, City, Crime, Culture, D&C, Death, Drama, Fiction, Imagery, Life, Love, Medical, Nerve Impulse, Night, Romance, Sleep, Urban, Women

I don’t know where the nerves are coming from, but something’s unsettled my body’s rhythms, set my fingers tapping on the steering wheel like rain on a window. The radio is off and I’m drumming my own repetitive track into my head, not sure where I’m going.

I’ve been driving around the city for a few hours, just burning gas and wracking my mind for what to do next. I honestly can’t remember the last couple of days, so I figured that driving aimlessly for a while would help me regain something.

But, nothing. It’s scaring me, and I don’t feel like the pills are helping. Nevertheless I’ve been taking them regularly; force of habit, I suppose. What else am I supposed to do, anyway? Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

There’s Chinese food rattling around in my belly, remnants of the quick lunch that broke my search, but I’m regretting it now. I can feel greasy noodles slide through my digestive tract, stringy meat coating my stomach and rancid broccoli decorating my insides with little green bits all around. I always get beef broccoli and noodles at Asian restaurants, a combination that’s easy to choke down.

My mind is wandering everywhere, little sparks of nerves running around my brain, checking different combinations to see what unlocks the past few days. I’m not really sure what to do; not much has changed over the course of the day.

Maybe LA is the problem. The whole city’s a huge damn box, and maybe I need to think outside of it. I think about it for a minute, then head to Wearing Street. From there I can get onto the highway, maybe take a road trip or something.

Too many maybes. I need to start thinking in constants.

How about this: LA is the problem. I need to take a road trip.

Better. Grounding myself in reality. That’s what I need, a stable foundation. I laugh at this; nothing much has ever been stable in my life. My sister, yeah, my mother.

I twitch suddenly. I don’t know why. I ignore it and concentrate on the road.

Wearing Street on my left, I turn.

There’s a fire.

It looks like a nail salon, or at least the remnants of one. Behind me there’s a siren, and I pull over to the side of the road quickly as a fire engine breezes past me on the way to the inferno. What a shame that such a thing should happen, but it’s interesting nonetheless.

And the fire is beautiful. A shitty thing to say when someone’s business is being converted into ash and greenhouse gas, but it does have this fierce glamour to it, the flames leaping up to meet the sky. Autumn colors. Just pretty, you know?

I drive past the fire engine and the conflagration of a nail salon, heading down the street to the freeway.

And then…

A woman. Standing with a hand on a hip and a thumb in the air, a kind of self-assured confidence issuing from her all the way to where I sit in the car. A tight-fitting black skirt wraps itself snugly around her hips; a white blouse hugs her breasts and her thin body. I try not to stare, but it’s hard. Tanned and shapely legs draw my eyes down to these black high heels that look both sexy and painful on her feet.

She has blonde hair tied back loosely, carelessly. Black sunglasses conceal her eyes; she looks bored. Upon closer inspection as I roll by, I can see the faintest speckles of red dotting her white blouse.

I can’t help it; I’m intrigued.

Maybe I should pull over.

I pull over.

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Comments
  1. carole cromwell paddock says:

    i love this. get rid of the bit that says I always get beef broc….it’s obvious in the mention previous. I love u Mom

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