Route 80 Truckee
Oct. 16th, 2005 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thisnewdayA few years ago I drove up Route 80, through the Sierras to Truckee, where nothing at all happened. It was three lanes up and three lanes back, as desolate as God ever made it. And I just kept driving, straight on through.
In all those miles, I swear there was nothing, not a hitchhiking soul, not a single stray dog, not a wind-blown scrap of highway litter. Didn't even notice if there was one of those markers that says what happened in this place or that. Wouldn't have stopped to read it, if there was. Just kept on driving.
Only reason I knew it was 80 was a few highway signs scattered along the way, from the Sacramento Valley to where the road started climbing, up into the mountains. Didn't know the name of the mountains, either, till I looked them up later. After Truckee and Tahoe and the ride back down.
And the long plane ride home. Across the Sierras and through the time zones and the threads of rivers running through the darkness. And the glow of cities and the lines of streetlights which crossed through their centers before running off into the same darkness.
Back home, there was darkness also. And the running of words in long, thin lines across the page. Running until they finally ran out because there was no more to say.
Sort of like those towns and their lights. Except the towns at night were like vast photo negatives. And the black letters and the streaming words on the white page would be, you know, the opposite.
Anyway, when I got back home I wrote all these poems. Some were pretty short but one, which I called "itinerary," was really long, like five or six pages, maybe. Not long like that other guy's Odyssey, but long for me, anyway.
Soon after that, I took a new screen name, "rt80truckee." I used it at a newsgroup that discussed poetry. People would sit there and type in their poems while everyone else sat there and waited. And I would sit there thinking, "Maybe this will be a good one, finally."
But it never was and I was always paranoid about having mine stolen so I never put any there. Once, somebody asked where I got my screen name and was I from Truckee. I could've made up a story, even though nothing had happened to me there, but I just said no.
There was also a woman that I talked to a few times. She seemed to be the moderator, or something, but her stuff wasn't much good either. She was one of those people who gives a lot of advice, to other would-be writers, but can't write either.
After that, I got bored with it. I changed my screen name and just disappeared. Which I thought was kind of cool. Like one of those threads of rivers that runs off into the darkness and disappears.
Or like those streetlights that cross in the center of a town and then go on for a while, on their own, before being lost in the darkness...
LPK
LiveJournal
10.16.2005
In all those miles, I swear there was nothing, not a hitchhiking soul, not a single stray dog, not a wind-blown scrap of highway litter. Didn't even notice if there was one of those markers that says what happened in this place or that. Wouldn't have stopped to read it, if there was. Just kept on driving.
Only reason I knew it was 80 was a few highway signs scattered along the way, from the Sacramento Valley to where the road started climbing, up into the mountains. Didn't know the name of the mountains, either, till I looked them up later. After Truckee and Tahoe and the ride back down.
And the long plane ride home. Across the Sierras and through the time zones and the threads of rivers running through the darkness. And the glow of cities and the lines of streetlights which crossed through their centers before running off into the same darkness.
Back home, there was darkness also. And the running of words in long, thin lines across the page. Running until they finally ran out because there was no more to say.
Sort of like those towns and their lights. Except the towns at night were like vast photo negatives. And the black letters and the streaming words on the white page would be, you know, the opposite.
Anyway, when I got back home I wrote all these poems. Some were pretty short but one, which I called "itinerary," was really long, like five or six pages, maybe. Not long like that other guy's Odyssey, but long for me, anyway.
Soon after that, I took a new screen name, "rt80truckee." I used it at a newsgroup that discussed poetry. People would sit there and type in their poems while everyone else sat there and waited. And I would sit there thinking, "Maybe this will be a good one, finally."
But it never was and I was always paranoid about having mine stolen so I never put any there. Once, somebody asked where I got my screen name and was I from Truckee. I could've made up a story, even though nothing had happened to me there, but I just said no.
There was also a woman that I talked to a few times. She seemed to be the moderator, or something, but her stuff wasn't much good either. She was one of those people who gives a lot of advice, to other would-be writers, but can't write either.
After that, I got bored with it. I changed my screen name and just disappeared. Which I thought was kind of cool. Like one of those threads of rivers that runs off into the darkness and disappears.
Or like those streetlights that cross in the center of a town and then go on for a while, on their own, before being lost in the darkness...
LPK
LiveJournal
10.16.2005
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no subject
Date: 2016-05-17 03:21 pm (UTC)Today i began reading it forward ...
I enjoy your stories and your style.
Thus, you may find me commenting on entries long past...if that's ok with you? and for real:
A few years ago I drove I-90 across the almost top of the good old U S of A. But, ive not been to Truckee. I drove alone but to a destination that was white washed as love. But as things go I flew home alone.
no subject
Date: 2016-05-25 01:11 pm (UTC)And I do enjoy reading your stuff as well, for the writing style, the imagery, the ambiance. I seem to like that word lately, LOL, but it kind of fits some of what I've read and especially enjoyed...