On Saturday night I was feeling better, so I decided to head down to Braidwood and hang out with a friend. Get high. Pet cats. I thought it would have an excellent effect on my miserable life, and I was correct. It was.
But driving out that way is goddam beautiful, if you can stand looking into the sun for that long. It was unseasonably cool that day, and driving was a very pleasant experience. To get from Elmhurst to Braidwood, the best bet is to go down Rt. 83 to Rt. 55 and take that all the way down. I used to go down this way to Bolingbrook for many reasons. I used to go on parts runs down that way for the city, and a girlfriend used to live there for a while. So I know the road is beautiful, but when you get past Bolingbrook? That's where true beauty takes over. That's where the suburbs start to transition into farm land. Braidwood is definitely a rural community, and it's good to get away from what I'm used to.
The air did me good. Having it fly through my hair was great. Listening to good music, driving through beautiful land, driving very, very fast. That's ideal. If I was driving a Delorean, I would have definitely gone back to the future several times.
Then I got to do it again the next day, except I was a teeny-tiny bit high. That made me feel even more relaxed. At ease with the world. The mph sometimes kissing a hundred. Hell, even Joliet looked nice, and that's next to impossible.
For all the complexities of our world, aid and succor comes fairly easily to us. All we need is beauty in the world, that's all.
Of course, that didn't stop me from waking up feeling like garbage today, so . . .
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