Coversations with Joey

68. about driving home at night



„Someday,“ Joey tells me, „you’ll think about that midnight ride with him and the world will have a little less sense. You’ll remember the exact moment of turning off the motorway, the car gliding steadily upward like a fish out of water and the million city lights in the distance. Kind of like what happens every year when you see the sea again. The first moment of recognition. Home.  The feel of his hands holding your knees steady. How you turned to him, and he was nodding off on your shoulder, and you poked him so he wouldn’t miss that incredible vision of awakening. You’ll have it all engraved in your brain, apparently for no reason. How you missed him even though he was right there beside you: how you missed and wanted him gone at the same time. The ultimate reveal of your biggest talent – ambivalence.“

I pensively exhale a mini-fog of cherry scented smoke.

„Why would I remember a fucking depressing moment like that?“

„Because you’re a thinker, missus. There’ll be times when you lose sight of what’s real and what’s not, and go grasping and searching for that meaning that’s always just a tiny bit out of reach.  It’ll do you good to keep this lesson close at hand.“

„What lesson is that, then?“

Joey rolls his eyes and takes a deep sigh, with the woe of one explaining relativity theory to a four year old.

„That you think about thinking too much,“ he starts. „That you should listen carefully when people talk to you,“ he cocks his eyebrow.

„Yeah, yeah.“

„That you used to have a home. That you used to love somebody. That there were moments worth remembering, even if they seemed trivial. And most importantly, that the world never made more than a little sense to begin with.“


You think, therefore you are.

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