
Bro Strider
@terribleTutelary
#substance #meditation Close your eyes. Count to three. Breathe deeply. Garlic is stuck under your fingernails. Your work shoes are kicked off under the pedals of the car, seat back, Daft Punk's “Discovery” is playing. In the passenger seat sits a man named Ben, with a lazy eye. He’s rolling another joint. A third guy, Kayvon, is in the back seat playing on your Nintendo DS. You're in the parking lot of a Pizza Hut. Your shift ended two hours ago and you're as high as you've ever been. Illuminated by the blue light of your radio, Ben finishes and hands his creation to you. He's muttering something about the girl he just broke up with. Kayvon just dropped out of college. And you? You're sitting in your car. A car that has been in this parking space for three weeks because it won't start. Transmission is seized, or, something. In twenty years, you'll be divorced with a ten year old daughter. Kayvon will be living at home with his mother. Ben will be dead from a Burnout 3 style chain-reaction-car-explosion. Ben looks at you as you take the joint from him. You've been talking for hours, but you can't remember anything you've said. And then he pauses and says: “Hey. What if there was a clothes store that was *this*?” You ask him what he means but he doesn't respond. The car goes quiet. It starts to rain. Welcome to Zumiez.
Close your eyes. Count to three. Breathe deeply. Witches cannot pass over running water. You remember this now, looking at the waterfall that flows down. Past the staircase starting at the pellet grills. Past the propane grills. Past the high end coolers and Thermoses. And down the plaster rocks into the pond below, pooling next to the bamboo forest of fishing poles. The fish in the pond stare at them blithely - the tools of their execution. It's just fish, anyway. Witches could not pass this. If there was a witch buying a grill, she couldn't get a fishing rod. Rivers and running water have always been seen as a barrier against evil things. Why do you think that is? Rivers are powerful, and eternal. No dam on Earth can stop one forever. Sometimes, in calamity, they change course. They destroy. And they carve for themselves a cold narrow groove across this Earth. Grasses springing from the old River bed, freshly fallen trees rotting to feed the banks of the new one. And so with the course of the river, so goes the course of purity that wards against evil. Around the gun counter, a crowd of men gather: huddled, muttering, simian. Downstairs across the river, a fudge shoppe. The lady at the counter told you when you got it home to microwave the fudge. “Try putting it on a graham cracker.” You joked and said, “I'm not sure it's gonna make it home.” She laughed. Maybe. More than anything. The sound is holy. The sound of the river. You hear the waterfall behind you. A fake river, on fake stone. Past stuffed deer and pictures of the Ozarks three-thousand miles away. A river like this might not protect you from anything. But rivers can always change course. Welcome to Bass Pro Shops.
The seven things I hate about you: You're fake, you're gay, you're insecure, You love me, you like her, You make me laugh, you make me cry, I don't know which side to buy, And the seventh thing I hate the most that you do, You make me love you #lyrics #nowplaying















