Damn You, Rolling Thunder ...
May. 27th, 2007 08:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchanI love the concept of this organization. I love their patriotism, and I love that they don't just sit around on their butts and bemoan the state of things, but, instead, they get out there and try to provoke awareness for their cause. And, honestly, I love motorcycles. The big sound -- the way they rumble on that decible level that feels like it crawls right inside your body and sets up camp. Just, something about it gets my blood pumping and makes me think: "Oh HELL YEAH!" And, usually, I look forward to them descending on our area every year for Memorial Day.
But this year ...
I hate them. I hate them all, every single one of them. I would like to take every HD powerhouse engine and tricked out tailpipe and wrap it around the neck of the nearest Road Warrior I can find.
Because I am so fucking tired. I have gotten almost no sleep for the past two weeks, since I was on a huge writing tear. Writing = good. What it does to my psyche = not good. We're talking, maybe 4 hours of sleep a night for the past couple of weeks. I am well beyond "mental crash" stage. I am so far beyond it that I think I've hit "curl-into-fetal-position-and-pray-for-the-end" stage. And, I have a sick child. Only a little sick -- she has caught a little cold, but she is ill enough to be whiny and irritable. She is not sleeping well. When she doesn't sleep well, that means I don't sleep well.
So, add this all together with Rolling Thunder, and you have hell on earth. Pure, unadulterated HELL. If you have never heard the sound of thousands of motorcycles eating up the pavement ... well, it is almost impossible to describe. Think "4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse" and then multiply that by about a bazillion. There is no other sound like it on the face of the earth. It's this almost mind-shattering, guttural, growling rumble that seems to go on for fucking ever. It's low, but, at the same time, loud. It crawls into your body through your ears and takes up residence somewhere around your spine, where it moves over and tap dances on your ribcage. In short, you become the sound. Or it becomes you. Whatever. Point is ... it's one of the most insidious sounds in the history of "Ever".
And, it never fucking stops. For four days now, it has been constant. At all hours of the day and night. I swear these people don't sleep. They can't -- their damn motorcycles are too fucking loud. It's like the Santa Ana winds ... but with motorcycles. And, all you can do is hang on and pray you won't lose your sanity before the end comes.
I'm so damn tired that I just want to sit here and cry. And, still ... they come, and they come, and they come. Pouring down the highway near our house, roaring and growling and rumbling down the streets near where we live. I just want to go to sleep. Don't they get that? Well, obviously, they don't. They have their own agenda and their own plans. I just happen to be in their path -- an insignificant little dot on their roadmap to political grandstanding -- or whatever.
Maybe next year I will, once again, be able to enjoy their arrival. Maybe next year I will be able to appreciate what they stand for, and feel proud that there is an organization in this country that believes in a cause the way they do.
But, for this year, I can only say: Damn you to Hell, Rolling Thunder. Damn you to Hell.
But this year ...
I hate them. I hate them all, every single one of them. I would like to take every HD powerhouse engine and tricked out tailpipe and wrap it around the neck of the nearest Road Warrior I can find.
Because I am so fucking tired. I have gotten almost no sleep for the past two weeks, since I was on a huge writing tear. Writing = good. What it does to my psyche = not good. We're talking, maybe 4 hours of sleep a night for the past couple of weeks. I am well beyond "mental crash" stage. I am so far beyond it that I think I've hit "curl-into-fetal-position-and-pray-for-the-end" stage. And, I have a sick child. Only a little sick -- she has caught a little cold, but she is ill enough to be whiny and irritable. She is not sleeping well. When she doesn't sleep well, that means I don't sleep well.
So, add this all together with Rolling Thunder, and you have hell on earth. Pure, unadulterated HELL. If you have never heard the sound of thousands of motorcycles eating up the pavement ... well, it is almost impossible to describe. Think "4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse" and then multiply that by about a bazillion. There is no other sound like it on the face of the earth. It's this almost mind-shattering, guttural, growling rumble that seems to go on for fucking ever. It's low, but, at the same time, loud. It crawls into your body through your ears and takes up residence somewhere around your spine, where it moves over and tap dances on your ribcage. In short, you become the sound. Or it becomes you. Whatever. Point is ... it's one of the most insidious sounds in the history of "Ever".
And, it never fucking stops. For four days now, it has been constant. At all hours of the day and night. I swear these people don't sleep. They can't -- their damn motorcycles are too fucking loud. It's like the Santa Ana winds ... but with motorcycles. And, all you can do is hang on and pray you won't lose your sanity before the end comes.
I'm so damn tired that I just want to sit here and cry. And, still ... they come, and they come, and they come. Pouring down the highway near our house, roaring and growling and rumbling down the streets near where we live. I just want to go to sleep. Don't they get that? Well, obviously, they don't. They have their own agenda and their own plans. I just happen to be in their path -- an insignificant little dot on their roadmap to political grandstanding -- or whatever.
Maybe next year I will, once again, be able to enjoy their arrival. Maybe next year I will be able to appreciate what they stand for, and feel proud that there is an organization in this country that believes in a cause the way they do.
But, for this year, I can only say: Damn you to Hell, Rolling Thunder. Damn you to Hell.