Day 5.

I'd like to plant a tree and see it grow in my lifetime. I feel like even if I were to live to 80, I wouldn't be satisfied with the size it would grow in sixty years. That's fine, though. I'd want my tree to be huge, with sprawling underground roots. The bark would be completely devoid of anything that would relate to the presence of a human being. The size and beauty of this tree would be impeccable, with long branches that hang down low.

In the winter months the tree would mimic the Ents of Fangorn, standing proud and patient.

My allergies are killing me.

Day 4.

I have a bit of catching up to do. There's always something beautiful about a sunset. It doesn't really matter where or when. There's a sense of romance in the natural order of things. The night begins, and a new day awaits. As cliche as that is, I think sunsets are worthy of our respect and appreciation. The hazy blue of the sky glimmers with red for just a few moments before the sun fades behind the horizon. It's cool.

I was climbing at King's Bluff in Tennessee and was trying to leave before the light faded away. A couple was sitting on top of the bluff. The guy was looking out across the river, across the farmland, and into the setting sun. Despite the fact that he looked like a typical rural prick, at least he could appreciate what was in front of him. Meanwhile his girlfriend had her back to the river, to the sunset, and to the beauty. She was texting on her phone. I wanted to vomit.

Day 3

I sometimes wonder who placed the crosses in the center of grassy intersections between four lane highways. They're always slightly different, but it's always a cross. I feel like a plaque would be more necessary. I see them to the right of the highway going into Ferdinand, and I see them in the intersection right before Evansville. I was to assume they're a memorial of sorts, perhaps for a fallen soldier or an aborted ba--fetus. The wondering usually ends here.

Day 2

I'll begin this experience with the arrival of an African American woman at Dennys. Where I'm from, this is a rare sight, especially during the colder months whenever Holiday World is out of business. To make things even more peculiar, she was dropped off by the county Sheriff. She started out by asking if anyone had a cell phone charger. All of us did not. Next, she asked if she could use a phone and the waitress let her use hers. At this point, the woman broke down into tears and explained that she her car had broken down and she was trying to acquire money from a man who fucked her over. She was from Louisville, and needed to get back.

My sympathy goes out to her, however I was in no shape to drive her. I will admit I have great compassion for others, but my cynicism gets the best of me. Often times I'm not willing to make sacrifices, especially if those sacrifices can bring harm onto myself. She asked the lot of us, and no one was willing. A man behind us openly admitted he was a drug dealer/addict, and asked her to stay away from him with money. It takes a lot for a man to admit that he's going to take advantage of you because he actually does so. The authorities were notified and I want to assume she was taken care of. They brought her to Dennys, and I'm not sure what else they could really have done for her. I wanted to pray with her. Not for her, but with her. Despite my militant atheism, I will give the bible some credit in that it has a way to calm others. I mean, my imaginary friend always made me feel better whenever I was younger. But alas, I avoided the situation altogether in fear of being a hypocrite or making matters worse.

On the way home I set my cruise control to allow my thoughts to catch adrift. I saw two vehicles leaving an otherwise abandoned parking lot, and wondered what kind of drugs they were swapping. One of the vehicles, a red sports car, was far too eager to cut off the car behind me in order to get back onto the highway, away from the scene of the crime. Such shame.

Day 1.

I suppose I'll begin this little experiment of mine with the drive home. Tonight I was following a small civic. The colors were dulled and it was housing two passengers. What drew my attention to these two was that occasionally an arm would poke out the window, and a small glow would follow. It's on these cold nights that I'm thankful I'm not a smoker. Nonetheless, I can recognize the romantic value that a cigarette can possess, and as such I'm a sucker for following the glowing ashes as they spiral about. I wanted several times to pass this vehicle, as they were incredibly slow taking the curves in Degonia Springs. I remember finding some humor in the fact that they would take the risk of smoking, but felt unease taking a curve above 35mph. We shared paths all the way until the new 231 highway, which I found odd because most people shy away from country roads at night unless they're familiar with the area. They drove straight, while I went left onto the highway.