Ah the plea­san­tries of waking to the crack of thun­der as it rever­be­ra­tes through your house, win­dow panes vibra­ting in their fra­mes with water poun­ding – like a mons­ter trying to get in. Briefly befo­rehand I had been surrep­ti­tiously snea­king into an enc­lo­sed mili­tary air base where a school friend had been enlis­ted; within this base he fan­cied an over the top and epic video-game pro­por­tio­ned play­ground con­test invol­ving a 60ft noose and demo­li­tion ball. This atmosphe­ric battle would reside within an his­to­ric school set amidst the dark skies and ope­ned hea­vens (a metaphor for the shit being sti­rred?); it would most cer­tainly lead to his and our expul­sion from the base in legen­dary fashion. The pene­tra­ting thun­der and prompt exit was in fact legen­dary, con­dem­ning the con­test, air base and entire metaphy­si­cal realm to that obli­vion of the dream never to be resumed.

This unortho­dox 8am wake up call now lea­ves me sit­ting amongst clear blue skies and another bur­ning hot sun; the mys­te­rious black smoke of fes­te­ring fork energy has also disap­pea­red into obli­vion. Like a mur­de­rer on the run it lea­ves behind only tra­ces of its pre­sence – puddle prints, soa­ked bar­be­cues swept up in its wake and the sod­den and appa­lled vic­tims of its wrath. Within this humid air of dis­be­lief I plan to return to the high­ways of Ame­rica via Kerouac. As this new metaphy­si­cal world pre­pa­res to embark on a jour­ney down the vari­cose veins of a mega-state my cor­po­real terrain fades once more, lea­ving barely the rem­nants of a tan­ning sun appa­rent across all roads, rou­tes and high­ways, night and day.