That's Cool

It's all the same, only the names will change.
Everyday, it seems were wasting away.
Another place, where the faces are so cold.
I'd drive all night just to get back home!

I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride!
I'm wanted, dead or alive!
Wanted, dead or alive!

So I'm sitting here tonight bored silly and needing a change. What kind of change, I don't know, but something different is needed. Something cool! Most of the time I'd have to admit that I'm a creature that abhors change, but occasionally my inner nomad (the tiny wild-eyed mutant lodged deep in my psyche, riding over the desert dunes on his smelly camel forever chasing the elusive Jade Star of the Mad Pharaoh Ankenaten. Yeah, that one.), trumps the relaxed, content part of my personality and I feel the need to go off and throw caution to the wind and start doing things. Usually this desire lasts about as long as it takes me to get to the nearest bookstore, but at the moment I wanna do something unexpected and weird. Something crazy and pointless. Cause some trouble, and do something that I'll maybe regret later.

Unfortunately, there are always circumstances that block my attempts to shake things up. Money is usually the culprit, sometime there are physical challenges, possible legal difficulties, and sometimes it's just pure laziness that keeps me from doing the things I want to do. And always, the cautious, logical part of me that tells me not to when I'm about to do something retarded is always in control, and it really pisses me off.

You ever get to feeling that way?

What is it I want to do? Nothing, and everything.

I wanna run over the deserts chasing coyotes with a knife between my teeth. I wanna be a deep sea welder on an oil rig in shark-infested waters. I wanna be a bush pilot in the Kalahari desert. I wanna be a small unit operator deep in the mountains of Afghanistan hunting for Osama. I wanna get in a knife fight over a smoldery-eyed senorita in a seaside dive in Argentina. I wanna smuggle Hannah Montana glitter jeans in the dead of night across the Bosnian border and sell them to shifty, untrustworthy Serb profiteers who plan to rob me of my illicit goods. I wanna tear across the seas at 80 knots per hour in a hijacked go-fast boat, hoist the black flag, and sink a Greenpeace barge with a giant harpoon gun while screaming battle cries that would give a Yakuza enforcer nightmares. I wanna be a renegade lumberjack and fell redwood trees in California, just because. I wanna learn how to ambush FARC terrorists in a jungle gunfighting camp in Costa Rica. I wanna liberate Thracian grave artifacts in Bulgaria and sell them to British art buyers. I wanna live like a wild Navajo in Canyon de Chelly for a month, next to a spring. I wanna find a shipwreck. I wanna rebuild a '70's muscle car and name it Cindy. I wanna be a bootlegger, makin' moonshine and runnin' hell-fer-leather from 'dem revenoo'ers. I wanna make a b-grade zombie cult film in the Superstition Mountains, ascend to the Invisible Clergy, and finally kick George Romero off his bony throne as King of the Walking Dead!

Aah, but what the heck, maybe I'll just get a night job at Wal-mart.

That'd be cool.