donger need food.

Mr. Brightside

He sits restless, yet frozen, on the coarse cheaply upholstered twenty dollar chair that he picked up from that closeout furniture sale a while back. He's been holding her now slightly faded photograph for quite some time now, taking his eyes off only to take a swig of the cheap brandy that he's been unconsciously swirling in the sniffer with his hand. It's a routine he's practiced for quite some time now: nervous anxiety as he slides open that lower right hand drawer in his dark solid oak desk; building excitement as he rifles through ten years of keepsakes; and victory when he finally locates that one memento that wielded more power than anything else in that desk drawer ever could. It was a photo of someone that he once knew, who years ago has since moved on to greater things. At the time, he didn't know what he was feeling, because he was always a man of control and stability. His friends used words like, "cold" and "calculating" and "analytical". Emotions never ruled his life. But for some reason, he just couldn't shake those feelings, and they took hold of him with a ferocity that he never knew before... That nervous excitement whenever she entered the room; that cool calming whenever her soft skin brushed his arm; that distraction whenever she spoke, no matter how many conversations where going on.

And so his pathetic attempts at recapturing a single fleeting moment in time continued relentlessly, until he forgot how the past really played itself out. Memories clouded by years of sentiment morphed into conjured up images of things that didn't exist, of emotions that weren't really there. The tragedy of it all was that he knew this, and yet he continued to wallow in a never ending spiral of self torture of things that never were and times that could never be. It was the thought that something could have been there that keeps him blind to the truth.

He takes another swig of brandy.


So driving my brother's E36 today, I got a terrific kick out of German engineering. There's just something very weird about those guys in Garching that put these cars together. The plastic is just so hard. And I mean hard. From the tight door handle that forces you to pull really hard, to the click of the mirror adjustment switch to the way the side windows seal and unseal whenever you close or open a door. And I still haven't gotten used to the shifter, clutch and gas combo. Why can't they get it so that the revs match perfectly the moment the gear shift slides into the next position? And the sloppy shifter requires just so much effort to engage gears. Maybe I'm just spoiled by the slick-shifting Honda, with its short throw clutch, and rifle bolt action shifter - snickety-snick-snick. Or maybe I just need to spend more time in the M car. Whatever the case, one thing is clear... I absolutely *love* the S52 motor. A twist of the key and it literally "fires" to life, settling into a subtle high-pitched rumble. And the torque on this thing makes the 3500lb 2-door behemoth leap off the line. I just wish there was more top end. But then again, I'm just so used to the freakish nature of my Honda's F20C.

Man, I'm so itching to stretch out the legs on the S38 sitting in an old M5... 6 individual throttle bodies, tuned dual-chamber intake plenum, 3.6 liters and a 7000RPM redline. And from what I've read, a 3rd gear pull that just screams. I wanna know what it's like.

It's so freakin' hot in San Diego. And traffic has gotten so bad out here. Thank God the Mexican food hasn't! I just realized we spent $40 at Super Sergio's to feed 5 people...Carne Asada Chips, Carne Asada Fries, 4 Horchatas, pollo asado plate, carnitas plate, chicken tacos plate, and 6 rolled tacos with guacamole and sour cream. It was damned good, but man I gotta take care of my health. Eating like this must be super bad for you. Maybe tomorrow morning I'll go for a walk on Coronado Beach...I miss the sand in my shoes, the pungent smell of the sea, and the chilly air under the morning overcast.

posted by VirtualErn @ 12:14 AM

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