Me and the Slugs

It's so weird writing for other people. There's some feeling I feel that I just don't expect other people to feel, and that I shouldn't expect myself to be able to get across. Like, last week I took a walk. I had routed the walk, it was a walk I wanted to take, a loop. It was a 2 hr loop in my area, down a mountain, then around the residential bottom, then back up the residential mountain, then down a busy street to the beginning where I started. I routed the loop early, drove it many times with the kids, over and over, depending on if the song in the car was good or not. If the song was a good song when I got to the end of it I'd start the loop again and if it wasn't a good song I'd go do what I was supposed to be doing. Rain or sun, bad songs or good songs, I drove that loop many times. And I got excited about walking it, wondered how long it would take me, if it was possible, if it would kill my feet, if I'd have to worry about people I know seeing me walk it.



Before I walked it, I tried two times, on two consecutive days. The first day I parked my car in the spot I wanted to start it and then I realized I didn't have any power in my phone for my ipod, or any songs I wanted on it. And I had to piss. So I drove home, which I was very disappointed about because it was such a sunny, good day to do it on. The next day I had made an extra effort to get the right shoes and the right clothes and to have music on my ipod that I wanted, then I got to the same spot and realized I didn't have earphones. So again home I went.



The third day, it was cloudy, drizzly all day. But in the direction I wanted to walk it was clearing up. So I took a chance and did the walk. I started on a mountain ruggedy path, deserted but for me and the power lines and the huge black slugs I noticed. I must have seen about 20 or 30 huge black slugs on the dirt. But I was distracted by the fact that I had to piss really bad. I thought about turning around, but figured maybe I could hold it. When I got to the bottom of the hill, without having turned around, and being in a residential area now, I thought about where I might piss this bladder out. I thought about going up to a house, asking to use the can. Seeing what doors to other realities would open, who I would meet. How I would affect their realities by knocking on their door. I'm not much one to be that bold with immediate reality though. I prefer to do something at my own pace and then write about it later.









So I found some bushes in a bushy back path to piss in, did a good job, didn't get it on my shoes, noticed the spit looking globs from whatever insects do that on leaves and wondered if I'd gotten any of that on my crack during my squat. But overall was proud of myself for everything dodged, literally, any neighbours in their tall houses who I'm sure peep out of their windows knowing that people go along those bushed paths to piss and do whatever the empty wrappers say they do.



Then I continued along, passing a few people, passing a jogger, passing some people going into their tall middle class boxes with 24s of beer. I passed a vacant lot and a bus stop with a woman who watched me and another woman with a baby in a stroller whose baby covered her eyes to me. I did a bunch of stuff on the walk, got out of breath, got hot, listened to a podcast I'd recorded that day. Passed 3 teenage girls who were as aware of me as I was of them.



Then I ascended back up the mountain, at the other side of the loop. Excited about this part, I liked this part in the car when I had done it a ton of times. It was harder than I thought, steeper, Blah blah. I thought about going into a path that went into the woods instead, blah blah.



Anyways, after 1 hour 45 minutes I made it to my fucking car. And I don't know how else to explain what happened on that walk other than that it was a defining moment because everything that happened before that walk and everything that happened after that walk and everything that happened during that walk will forever be relative to that walk in my mind. And I don't know how else to explain it to an audience who is always listening in my mind and who I owe nothing to but who I'm writing this to.