sirakattack
12-12-2009, 12:52 AM
Here is a short story I wrote about a year ago, enjoy and provide feedback if you wish :)
This billboard has changed every weekend for the past 8 months. I try to guess what the next advertisement is going to be but I am usually wrong. However, I was close one weekend when I guessed it would be an advertisement of toothpaste, but to my demise, it was denture cleaner. I wonder the number of people who drive by this billboard who actually use dentures. I used to assume it was a requirement for old age, but with maturity comes knowledge, and with knowledge comes the realization that I do not have to use dentures.
This is how I typically spend my Saturday mornings; driving almost two hours out on highway 35, sitting on the roof of my 85’ Honda and watching the maintenance men change this billboard. I would never imagine that their job (Billboard changing, apparently) would have such an unusually high turnover rate other than the fact that I have noticed that it has never been the same two men changing this particular Billboard on a week-to-week basis. I guess I am in no position to make that assumption because every time I show up to this exact spot on Saturday the two men are already up there and I always leave before they come back down. I can usually tell what the advertisement is going to be about halfway through their assignment.
But sometimes, when I have nothing else planned for the rest of the week, I take a nap and awake towards the end of their work to add suspense and purpose to their project. Not to mention that I cannot make out the faces of the men up there; only their body types and fluidity of movements. Whoever these men are, the company chooses the best of the best to get the job done. It must be hot up there. Twenty feet in the air changing a billboard from week to week.
It is 6:53 a.m. on Saturday, June 12th 1992 and I wake up excitedly, ready to head out to my special billboard waiting patiently for me. I usually walk out of my house by 7:15 a.m., and make it there around 9:00 a.m. catching the last of the sunrise on the drive towards my destination. Often, as I drive to my billboard, I wonder if the two men are also on their way to the billboard as I am. I wonder if they take the sunrises that they are treated with seeing for granted or if they enjoy every second of the sun exposing how naked our planet is. On the way, I commonly stop off at the grocery store and buy the newspaper. Not to read, but to use as shield from the sun as I lay on my roof. The temperature is normally cool enough to lie out for hours at a time, but bright enough to cause a tiny hint of warmth and blindness.
Having a routine has made me feel rather purposeful onto what I’m doing next. My schedule revolves around my Saturday morning quest. However, this trip that I take only takes up a maximum of 6 hours on a Saturday, which is only about 4% of the activities that I do throughout my week. Having 96% of the rest of my week virtually open, I then come to realize that my activities are really not purposeful at all.
Every time I walk out to my car it looks more and more wrinkled. The guy who sold it to me told me that the past owner had been an elder gentleman with 4 dogs and a subscription to Readers Digest. He told me that he remembers the way the old man walked up to him with his dogs in a bunch and said “It has no value to me anymore. How much for it?” I paid $1200 for the car, but I never did bother to ask how much it was originally sold for to the salesman. The weather outside my house is cool and thin. However, I have noticed that the weather underneath the billboard tends to be a little different once I drive for the almost 2 hours. I always bring an extra coat, extra socks, and several bottles of water. I am not a frontiersman, I remind myself. The area around the billboard is a spectacle of its own; Grassy plains everywhere you look and the feeling that industrialization missed a spot or two. This two-lane road that my car rests on the side of split the beauty of this scenery in half with its cemented path that suffocated the roots underneath it.
With about a fifth of a tank of gas, I assume that it will be enough to get me there and back without any troubles. I am usually right. I drive towards the billboard wondering what the advertisement will be this weekend. Last week it was re-usable ice. I often think how hard it is to chill a drink; however, sometimes making easy things easier is just the better way to go about things. It was clever nonetheless. I was unable to guess the advertisement until the end of the show. I had thought of everything from children’s toy bricks to rolling dice. The men changing the billboard had me fooled that week.
I make the turns and exits without hesitation and conflict due to the fact that I have claimed this path as my territory. I have learned how to dodge, avoid, and neglect any sort of distraction on or off the road that would inhibit me from making my journey to this sacred place. At approximately 14 minutes to arrival I begin to get a little hungry so I eat a few crackers. My lack of eating solid meals throughout my day and routines do not, I feel, have a direct affect on my being. After all, my purpose is clear: to arrive at the billboard and accept it as my own. Not to be nutritious.
The men are already up on their masterpiece. They’re waiting for, I hope, some sort of motivation to begin their day. If, in fact, these two men are employed by some sort of company, I am almost positive that this company would not enjoy the tragic news regarding their employees, essentially, sitting on the job. They do not seem to be morning people due to the slouched over posture and lack of interaction with one another. I believe that whether you’re a morning person or not, when you’re out in the middle of a lost area where all is seen is a billboard and miles of road, human interaction is not only desired, but it is required. Aside from the billboard being made anew each week, the only other thing that keeps me coming back is the hope that these two men notice me sitting down here watching their every move in envy. Our non-verbal relationship is what keeps me coming back.
This billboard has changed every weekend for the past 8 months. I try to guess what the next advertisement is going to be but I am usually wrong. However, I was close one weekend when I guessed it would be an advertisement of toothpaste, but to my demise, it was denture cleaner. I wonder the number of people who drive by this billboard who actually use dentures. I used to assume it was a requirement for old age, but with maturity comes knowledge, and with knowledge comes the realization that I do not have to use dentures.
This is how I typically spend my Saturday mornings; driving almost two hours out on highway 35, sitting on the roof of my 85’ Honda and watching the maintenance men change this billboard. I would never imagine that their job (Billboard changing, apparently) would have such an unusually high turnover rate other than the fact that I have noticed that it has never been the same two men changing this particular Billboard on a week-to-week basis. I guess I am in no position to make that assumption because every time I show up to this exact spot on Saturday the two men are already up there and I always leave before they come back down. I can usually tell what the advertisement is going to be about halfway through their assignment.
But sometimes, when I have nothing else planned for the rest of the week, I take a nap and awake towards the end of their work to add suspense and purpose to their project. Not to mention that I cannot make out the faces of the men up there; only their body types and fluidity of movements. Whoever these men are, the company chooses the best of the best to get the job done. It must be hot up there. Twenty feet in the air changing a billboard from week to week.
It is 6:53 a.m. on Saturday, June 12th 1992 and I wake up excitedly, ready to head out to my special billboard waiting patiently for me. I usually walk out of my house by 7:15 a.m., and make it there around 9:00 a.m. catching the last of the sunrise on the drive towards my destination. Often, as I drive to my billboard, I wonder if the two men are also on their way to the billboard as I am. I wonder if they take the sunrises that they are treated with seeing for granted or if they enjoy every second of the sun exposing how naked our planet is. On the way, I commonly stop off at the grocery store and buy the newspaper. Not to read, but to use as shield from the sun as I lay on my roof. The temperature is normally cool enough to lie out for hours at a time, but bright enough to cause a tiny hint of warmth and blindness.
Having a routine has made me feel rather purposeful onto what I’m doing next. My schedule revolves around my Saturday morning quest. However, this trip that I take only takes up a maximum of 6 hours on a Saturday, which is only about 4% of the activities that I do throughout my week. Having 96% of the rest of my week virtually open, I then come to realize that my activities are really not purposeful at all.
Every time I walk out to my car it looks more and more wrinkled. The guy who sold it to me told me that the past owner had been an elder gentleman with 4 dogs and a subscription to Readers Digest. He told me that he remembers the way the old man walked up to him with his dogs in a bunch and said “It has no value to me anymore. How much for it?” I paid $1200 for the car, but I never did bother to ask how much it was originally sold for to the salesman. The weather outside my house is cool and thin. However, I have noticed that the weather underneath the billboard tends to be a little different once I drive for the almost 2 hours. I always bring an extra coat, extra socks, and several bottles of water. I am not a frontiersman, I remind myself. The area around the billboard is a spectacle of its own; Grassy plains everywhere you look and the feeling that industrialization missed a spot or two. This two-lane road that my car rests on the side of split the beauty of this scenery in half with its cemented path that suffocated the roots underneath it.
With about a fifth of a tank of gas, I assume that it will be enough to get me there and back without any troubles. I am usually right. I drive towards the billboard wondering what the advertisement will be this weekend. Last week it was re-usable ice. I often think how hard it is to chill a drink; however, sometimes making easy things easier is just the better way to go about things. It was clever nonetheless. I was unable to guess the advertisement until the end of the show. I had thought of everything from children’s toy bricks to rolling dice. The men changing the billboard had me fooled that week.
I make the turns and exits without hesitation and conflict due to the fact that I have claimed this path as my territory. I have learned how to dodge, avoid, and neglect any sort of distraction on or off the road that would inhibit me from making my journey to this sacred place. At approximately 14 minutes to arrival I begin to get a little hungry so I eat a few crackers. My lack of eating solid meals throughout my day and routines do not, I feel, have a direct affect on my being. After all, my purpose is clear: to arrive at the billboard and accept it as my own. Not to be nutritious.
The men are already up on their masterpiece. They’re waiting for, I hope, some sort of motivation to begin their day. If, in fact, these two men are employed by some sort of company, I am almost positive that this company would not enjoy the tragic news regarding their employees, essentially, sitting on the job. They do not seem to be morning people due to the slouched over posture and lack of interaction with one another. I believe that whether you’re a morning person or not, when you’re out in the middle of a lost area where all is seen is a billboard and miles of road, human interaction is not only desired, but it is required. Aside from the billboard being made anew each week, the only other thing that keeps me coming back is the hope that these two men notice me sitting down here watching their every move in envy. Our non-verbal relationship is what keeps me coming back.