Title stolen from this Karl Shapiro poem.
**
Sitting waiting to make a left into the gym driveway. Night workout before Alcoholics Anonymous. A drunk swerved across the yellow line. Slammed into me. Old Korean guy. Mr. Kim, obviously. Why have names.
Glad to be alive. Not that it came close. But it reminds you what’s coming.
I love my car. Don’t want it to be totaled. Looked forward to driving my Certified Pre-Owned 2014 Subaru Legacy to SF this week. Mountains and farmlands with satellite radio. Comfortable cruising vehicle with reasonably sharp handling. Adequate power. Premium trim package 7-way power seat and leather-wrapped steering wheel perfectly adjusted to the particulars of my frame. Premium trim package power 2-way sunroof open to the cow shit smelling air of the Central Valley- no such luck.
I’m attached to that car. When I bought it I picked a spot on the map- Wild Horse Island, Montana. Went there because I could. It’s an island with wild horses. Flash snowstorms in Inyo County, Colorado Arizona Idaho– I fucking love that car and I don’t want her totaled. And I especially don’t want to shop for another car. Scrutinize forms from insurance regarding the lienholder for the $1800 I still owe on it. Drive home from work to get it towed to body shops who tell me I have to get it towed to other body shops and so on, yelling over the sound of traffic to triple A that I need a flatbed, it’s all wheel drive–
My back’s fucked up but I’m glad my arm wasn’t hanging out the window chopped off. Glad he didn’t hit me head on. Blow up an airbag in my already non movie star face. Ribs hurt yesterday from my guts clenching hard on impact. Fastidiously trained core muscles turning on each other like one of them might tear off my carcass at last. Get attached to someone rich.
Now I got this rental Miata. Chose it from Doug Demuro videos. He’s lying about being six foot four. I’m six one and a half and the roof rubs my crown and expands my bald spot. With the top down the crisp rear view mirror showcases my Robert Redford at 78 skin. But once in a while you get to screw it on, it sounds like an absolute son of a bitch. Laugh your ass off flooring it changing lanes. BMW Z4s compelled to thread the needle and pass me to show how much money they have. You see why Kim’s grandson throws an aftermarket turbo on it to smoke them. Fun but not a comfortable touring sedan such as the CPO 2014 Subaru Legacy 2.5i Premium in pearl white, tan cloth interior. 36 miles per gallon highway but at the speed limit in Yellowstone dodging buffalo you get more. Not exactly a wind tunnel car so catches a thousand bugs flying into a flaming sunset in Wyoming–God damn do I love that car. I loved all my cars. A car, unlike a woman, does what it’s supposed to. Would have kept all my cars for life. I eject a woman after 3 weeks.
The Miata has an “excellent gearbox”. When you goose it it makes a real mean sound. The girl you’re taking to sushi yells are you out of your mind there are children in this neighborhood. I go out with her to hear about other guys she dates. Rich TV writers my age from Bumble. They’re whiny losers. Their houses and pools can’t take away the terror of getting fired from writing Lifetime shows for Netflix, which is great news.
Some kind of weird air pocket under my rib cage. Somewhere in my guts. I’m gonna die because of this fuckin drunk. Can’t even complain. I used to do shit like this. People tell me sue–I was hit by a 70 year old alcoholic who drove a 2006 Toyota Matrix and speaks no English. Not gonna be securing oil wells here. California has broke Asians. Did some organ rupture. I stand and take a big breath and it makes a weird crocodile sound like I have bad gas. You better go to a doctor–I better not. No doctors, lawyers, mechanics, no body shops, insurance adjusters–none of that shit. If need to do one more minute of work I’ll fuckin die. No more pains in the ass.
He slammed into me and stayed in his car making inchoate foreigner sounds. I took 15 pictures showing he crossed double yellow. I said are you OK and he said Unnnhhhh. Hyperion in Silverlake, by where the Mansons killed the LaBiancas. There were cops. They stopped. Gathered my testimony while Kim dropped his wallet on the ground and mumbled. Lifted up his shirt and stood there stroking his naked belly awaiting a Korean speaking officer. They gave him a field sobriety test. He fell over. Said “NERVOUS”. Got cuffed. I feel bad. Fuckin Friday night too. Means it’s Sunday and he’s still in the can.
I used to drink like that. I didn’t drive that drunk. Never wanted to hurt anyone but me. But other cultures, men are the center of the world. He looked great for his age. Demographically a 0% chance he smokes less than 8 packs a day. But a little pigment plus core strength from hitting triples into your kids’ thighs with a broomstick keeps you sharp. He’s in the can and I’m free. He gets drunk and I don’t. I forgive him. I hope he calls me. I’ll take him to an AA meeting. I don’t have to do this shit anymore. Brother neither do you.
We’ll see about the car. At night I watch Doug Demuro. THIS is the 1995 Bentley Arnage and it’s an INSANE luxury car for thirty… thousand… dollars. I could get one. Next autoplay video is Jay Leno’s Garage and the guest is my ex-fiancee‘s father showing Jay something from his collection, six weeks before I saw him take the podium at her funeral. When he talks I can feel her with me. I love you too and I’m still here. I’ll see you again. But not yet.
delicioustacos 
Insurance is voided if you drive under influence, hope you’re covered Taco’s.
…. no its not
I stopped drinking three weeks ago and I am nowhere near as calm , composed, and forgiving as you. My break from alcohol is temporary, unlike you, I am unable to deal with sobriety. This drug free , alcohol free, work constant, and study when not working lifestyle is over in three years. Then I will be the dude with the house (waterfront condo actually) and the pool who could give a fuck about Bumble bitches- I will have a ticket to Colombia.
Glad to hear you’re ok. I recently got back in the rooms myself.
Mr Tacos,
BAP has no email address, so I write this with the hope that you will send him this important suggestion regarding the end of No-Fap November. I am forbidden from having twitter account or I would have tried twitter.
Within the esoteric arts exists the concept of sex magic. There are many techniques in channeling sexual energies towards a goal. The key is to focus on a sigil or say a mantra during the point of orgasm, that sums up a goal the magnus is trying to achieve.
I propose that a short mantra be created, that all BAPtists and other frogs would say out loud on 12-1-19 during orgasm. This orgasm can be brought about by gril, or by self gratification.
It’s important that everyone chant the same mantra and do it on the same day. The power of a month buildup cannot be overstated. This is powerful magic.
The mantra itself can be discussed, but here are some suggestions
“Stop White genocide”
“Onward White imperium”
“Death to the anti-white system”
You get the point. Today is the 24th; we have, say, until the 28th to decide the mantra, then the 29th to 30th to disseminate to enough frogs as possible.
Please disseminate to BAP and elsewhere ASAP. BAP may even want to do a special podcast addressing this. Thank you for you attention.
Power and Wisdom to you,
Bol Worker
man, you spend over two decades building a career, make enough to get a certified-pre-owned japanese vehicle, shill your novel, keep your blog updated, stay fit into your 40’s, apply eye serum, maintain your twatter, and then boom, guess what, some drunk slams into your car and creates yet another chore on your to-do list. this just proves what i keep thinking to myself, just when things get good, life throws you a curve ball and adds some more shit for you to take care of. oh well. hope they can repair your soobie. if not, there are other options. might i humbly suggest, a tesla. since you rave about it so much. just make sure you don’t leave it on autopilot.
p.s. we miss you over at CB, sales have been down.
this blog cured my racism, my anti-semitism, my misogyny and most importantly, my inceldom. thank you tacos for showing me the way of love and acceptance. i now have a qt gf who looks like Rashida Jones. we’re going to spend hannukah together. shalom!
Nice stuff you fuck. I have to write a self-review [for my boss to copy-paste] and I subconsciously make my way here to the paragon of pleasing honesty. If only they knew what I’ve been exposed to, what my influences are.