Going up, the speed at which you can escape the pull of Earth’s gravity is called escape velocity. In the other direction, terminal velocity. At that point, pulling the ripcord will only mean that you were polite enough to cover your stain.
Up. Down. Direction the difference between cruise missile and crater. The velocity stays the same. Constant. Driving. Exhausting.
And that’s me. Coffeed. Coked. Rock Starred. Cranked and dumb-smiling. Switched on and waiting for the tank to run dry.
Night falls and I hang up the phone. Grab another. Switch from email to text. Shift gears but never, ever slow down.
To slow down is to invite thought. To think is to perceive and that’s just a way to poke a hole in the carefully constructed haze of advertising and artifice behind which I hide from the things that annoy me.