The Missing Sandwich is proud to present her first guest writer, with a stunner post at that! I know you usually read him over at the black lullaby, but our very own author, ad-man & actor exraordinaire has written a post for my blog which I will share with you shortly. First the schpeel : this was done on a brilliant LSD trip which resulted in him writing about the paradoxical beauty & torture of love. Without much ado…. please join me as I present AUTOMOBILE!
You make me feel like an automobile and I know I must be tripping balls to think an automobile has feelings and the fact that I’m calling it an automobile is just so fucking lame. But that’s not even the point of the damn story. Yes there is a story. So I’m sitting here getting high with my friends, watching the moon (I even howled at it secretly when I was out on the balcony by myself), getting, high, did I!… say that already? The punctuation, marks; in this extremely long sentence are quite… trippy… yea. Anyway, back to the story. So yea, um, I was thinking about the kinds of cars that guys just fall in love with. Please be of the understanding that I’m talking about a car here and this is not some twisted metaphor that means something more. Right. So back to the car.
You ask any man’s man who his baby is and he’ll show you his wheels, but not the ones that take him to work, oh no, she’s far too important for that. It’s not the ones he goes partying with, she’s way better than that. It’s not even the ones he takes on those special weekends out of town, no, she’s too damned good for that.
She’s the engine he ignites when he wants to give the rest of the world a big ‘fuck you!’ She’s the gear he shifts into when he explores the part of himself that no one else will ever get to see. She’s the leather he sinks into when he thinks no one else is watching. She is his infinite statement of beauty. That is why she can be explored by him alone. That is why she can be experienced by him alone. With her he can be the boy that the adult world won’t let him be. With her he can be the raw lover his wife won’t let him be. With her he can be exactly who he is inside and not be ashamed of it. She is his release, she is his easel, the one on which he paints his joy and his love. She loves him no matter what and he knows it and he also knows that she’ll be true to him till her last fucking breath.
But he knows that this world is much more than just her. He knows about responsibilities and other grownup things. He knows that he’s got to leave this earth with something more than just a car to his name. So he keeps her locked away in the darkness, so she won’t distract him from the dumb charade he calls life. But when he wants to live, to really, really, really live… (pause for dramatic effect) that’s when he takes her out. He takes her on the spin of a fucking lifetime and then locks her up again until he’s got enough time on his hands to appreciate her for the fucking beauty she is. That’s his baby. That’s how you make me feel.
And now you know why you make me feel like a fucking automobile.
The Missing Sandwich 