4 wheel drive
Drivin' down a dark road
Can't see my hand in front of my face
I'm just spinnin' my wheels again
Stuck in this same old place
Oh, the bridge is out up ahead
And the river's on the rise
I'm too far gone to turn around
I need a heart with 4 wheel drive
I can't get no traction
When I look into your eyes
When you kiss me tenderly
My wheels get paralyzed
Somewhere down the highway
I'm gonna find that exit sign
But I can't get these wheels turnin'
I need a heart with 4 wheel drive
- Paul Thorn, Heart with 4 Wheel Drive
Can't see my hand in front of my face
I'm just spinnin' my wheels again
Stuck in this same old place
Oh, the bridge is out up ahead
And the river's on the rise
I'm too far gone to turn around
I need a heart with 4 wheel drive
I can't get no traction
When I look into your eyes
When you kiss me tenderly
My wheels get paralyzed
Somewhere down the highway
I'm gonna find that exit sign
But I can't get these wheels turnin'
I need a heart with 4 wheel drive
- Paul Thorn, Heart with 4 Wheel Drive
back with a vengeance
I am back from the Canadian wilderness, and I didn't manage to meet any eligible lumberjacks, mounties, or hockey players along the way. Or at least, not any that I could legally take home with me. I received some e-mails upon my return, several of which asked simply, "What did you do on your trip?" Let's see, I'm writing a three-hundred page book about last month, which I've been writing for six weeks now, and you spent all of twelve seconds typing up that e-mail. I think I'll give you the appropriate response -- "I went to Canada."
I apologize for the big blog gap, but I've been channeling all my efforts into the book project recently and it's been draining my literary energies like the Skeksis drained the life essence from the Gelflings in the Dark Crystal. (Just throwing in a little gratuitous 80s pop culture for your enjoyment. If you don't get it, you weren't meant to.)
I've discovered that the best way to drink for free (both coffee and booze) across Canada and down into the U.S. is to tell people that you're trying to write a book. Sunday night I stopped by a coffee shop in Redwood City to write and avoid my internet temptation, and after asking the guy behind the counter where I could find a power outlet, he asked me my purpose.
"I'm writing a book."
"No way, that is like, my lifelong dream! I want to write a book before I die."
And that is how I got my hot chocolate with whipped cream on the house. I'll admit I probably haven't written nearly enough words to deserve all these freebies, but it sure helps to keep a person motivated. Writing is like the surefire creative artist card you can play everywhere. Your next excuse for tardiness, your next bar pickup line, your next cocktail party opener -- you're writing a book.
After Canada I plan to touch on "Why can't I meet someone without 30,000 pounds of emotional baggage?"
I bet you can't wait.
I apologize for the big blog gap, but I've been channeling all my efforts into the book project recently and it's been draining my literary energies like the Skeksis drained the life essence from the Gelflings in the Dark Crystal. (Just throwing in a little gratuitous 80s pop culture for your enjoyment. If you don't get it, you weren't meant to.)
I've discovered that the best way to drink for free (both coffee and booze) across Canada and down into the U.S. is to tell people that you're trying to write a book. Sunday night I stopped by a coffee shop in Redwood City to write and avoid my internet temptation, and after asking the guy behind the counter where I could find a power outlet, he asked me my purpose.
"I'm writing a book."
"No way, that is like, my lifelong dream! I want to write a book before I die."
And that is how I got my hot chocolate with whipped cream on the house. I'll admit I probably haven't written nearly enough words to deserve all these freebies, but it sure helps to keep a person motivated. Writing is like the surefire creative artist card you can play everywhere. Your next excuse for tardiness, your next bar pickup line, your next cocktail party opener -- you're writing a book.
After Canada I plan to touch on "Why can't I meet someone without 30,000 pounds of emotional baggage?"
I bet you can't wait.
