soul food

A wayfaring soul has nowhere to go,
The body will follow, but the body gets old.
The soul is stubborn and refuses to quit,
A body has food, but for the soul, this is it.
Soul food is the mountains and plains in one day;
The desert and snowcaps visit to play;
That dangerous trek through a place once again;
A temporary bed from a very new friend;
Planes and trains and legs and strangers;
Surviving through exciting dangers;
Hitching down the highway for days;
In exhilarating stop for a gig that pays;
Couchsurfing friends in new parts of the world;
Learning each day to be a braver girl;
Finding community of wayfarers alike;
Seeing the world at top of a hike;
Sigh of reliefe meeting a destination;
Adreniline kicks in the next situation;
Gobbling up each new place;
Enjoying the newness of each new face.
Food for the body to live 'till it's old,
Wayfaring food for the wayfaring soul.

bodyless

I lost my sight, I lost my breath
I lost my voice inside myself.
I only hear and I only feel with my eyes and my mouth and my hands,
I can feel.
All my sensens flutter deep to my heart,
Everything is going straight to my heart.
What good is my heart without eyes to see?
What good is my soul without a thing to think?
What good are feelings without an outlet to speak, a body to do, and eyes to see?

Hate is a strong word

If you are Chicago suburban driver, I hate you. 

Go take a serious time out... after you read this.

I will not speed up as fast as you when the light turns green. If you tail-gait me next time, I will seriously contemplate slamming on my breaks so the bars from my bike rack go smashing into your front end, and then I'll do it. It will be your fault.

Next time you blow a stop sign in front of me, I'm going to just keep on going and t-bone you. It will be your fault.

The only reason I don't consistently honk my horn at all of you is because it doesn't work.

If you want to go ten miles over the speed limit, while I'm only going two over, I will gladly watch... and then gladly pass you when you're pulled over.

But don't cut me off when you pass me. I'll put the police on my speed dial.

If you lightly honk your horn at me to let me know I'm doing something wrong, I will think about my woes. When you honk your horn at me for over seven seconds, all I'm thinking is "man you're an asshole. I wish I could do it again." Next time I will.

I've driven across this country and back more times than most. Chicago has the worst drivers of them all. Shame on you.

To the pedestrians, you're not off the hook either: I gladly follow the pedestrian rules. I stop for you at crosswalks, keep an eye out for you, and make sure you get the right of way at stop signs and common pedestrian areas. Next time you walk out in front of me in the dark on a road marked 40mph where there is no crosswalk, and linger, I will surely run you over. Then I will drive away, and not feel bad. And it will be your fault. I think that's what you're secretly hoping for anyways. What other sort of dummie does shit like that?

I laugh at you when you speed up around me, and then we end up next to each other at the following stoplight. I think you have largely mistaken the meaning of life, Speedy Gonzales. But I don't feel sorry for you anymore. I'm just sick of you.

If there is a merge sign, merge you idiot. I'm not letting you in front of me next time when you wedge your car in front of mine at the last second. You'll surely have a broken headlight.

However! When I'm merging onto the highway and you can't get out of the way, I have a choice between the railing on my right, and you on my left. I'm going to tell you now that your car is going to be much more expensive to fix after I merge right into your Mercedes. And it will be your fault.

When I'm trying to get out of a parking lot in traffic and you block the way with your huge ass of a car, I will consider that humans makes mistakes. I consider this under the condition that you outwardly show that you are repenting of your wrong ways and trying to inch forward so I can squeeze my way in. Otherwise, I'll just pretend you're not there, and OH! there is suddenly an empty spot on the road for me right. there.

If you find yourself constantly in a hurry to get places, and then angry at everyone else one the road for driving the speed limit, then I suggest you throw your phone into a lake, go off into the woods by yourself for many weeks, and think about what you've done you bad, bad person you.

If you see a red Honda Civic hatchback driving on the road, then you best be nice to it or I will wedge my tiny little car into your big &$%!*$#!.

I sincerely appreciate you reading, Drivers of Chicago. Please go to the nearest DMV and return your drivers license.