we wear backpacks to stand up straight

I would like to fall in love. I’d like to do a lot of things. I’d like to ride an old mule around the desert, sail across the ocean, be more like MacGyver. But most of all, I think I’d like to fall in love. I’d like to have the most beautiful woman in the world wake me up as she gets out of bed in a wrinkled morning gown and wanders over to the open balcony and gazes out onto the world as the wind blows around her. She’d have dark hair which would fall around her shoulders and in the morning would sprinkle down onto her face around a pair of dark blue eyes which would look like the ocean. Yes, lately I have realized that all of what I’m about to tell you stems from the hope of some poor boy who wanted to wake up to a beautiful woman and be in love.
I think it really started when I was 14 or 15 years old, sitting in a cheap motel pool in the middle of the desert in the middle of nowhere in the middle of Arizona pretending I was an oceanic explorer every time I swam to the bottom of the deep end of said motel swimming pool, like all 14-15 year old boys tend to do. I’ve actually never been able to understand why this age group is typically portrayed in Hollywood hits to be young hoodlums wearing leather jackets and beating up cops and shit like that. When I was 14 I was young. I mean I wanted to lose my virginity more than anything (which resulted in the same New Year’s resolution for three consecutive years), but at the same time I was still lighting off fireworks in my backyard and going on expeditions with my dog through the woods behind my house. Basically I was still doing the same kind of thing I had been doing since I could walk around without falling over because I was too top heavy to stand (seriously, my head was fucking huge when I was a little kid).
Maybe it was because I was reading On the Road at the time. Maybe because OK Computer had become my favorite album of all time. Maybe its because I had been racing around scenic country roads with my friends in a rusted-out 1980’s Japanese car (you know, the kind where you don’t buckle your seat belt because you think your chances of surviving are better when getting thrown through the windshield and into an oak tree than running the risk that the seatbelt might jam leaving you trapped in that burning little shit car waiting for the white light to appear). Maybe it was because on these country roads I’d be mesmerized by the sight of light coming through the tree tops and making a heavenly glow on the earth. Maybe it was the nights like the time we stole 4 Miller High Lifes from a VFW at a friend’s going away party and drove to a field that had long wet grass and fog which hanged in the trees. Or that I did a lot of swimming. In the deep end of course.



you should definitly read this:
http://home3.inet.tele.dk/stadil/spe_kc.htm
and maybe laugh at this
http://rdanderson.com/