Music of my Life

Tuesday, September 7, 2010


His name was Nate. Or it was Jon. Or it was Dustin, or it was Collin. His name was just like all the others, copies of copies of copies. Titles passed down, becoming part of a new generation.

Call him what you want, it really doesn't matter. I'll call him Nate.

Nate used to drive out into the desert and get high. Super high.

He loved that. Just him and the desert. A cactus or two, sure. Mostly just land and sky and stars like you wouldn't believe. Unless you'd seen them.

One night, he was driving around. He did that a lot. Letting the marijuana smoke pour out of his mouth, he'd cruise the uncultivated dirt. It made him feel special. Like he mattered.

Nate was a genius. Sort of. His memory was more accurate than a camera's. His head had more storage space than a computer, than a hundred computers.

He used to drive around and recite Pi to himself. He loved the beginning. The 3, then the decimal. "Three point one four one five nine two six." A lot of people know Pi that far. He kept going though.

He saw things differently, especially when he smoked. He could see numbers. His thoughts turned into vivid screenplays, elaborate dramas, projected right between his eyes.

He was driving around the desert, smoking, letting the stars shoot without being fired. In his mind, Pi flashed across the screen.

Π =3.14159 26535 89793 23846 26433 83279 50288 41971 69399 37510 582097 49445 92307 81640 62862 08998 62803 48253

He would close his eyes, he never hit anything. He would hold the wheel steady and drive by feel, letting Pi consume his mind greedily.



Nate used to drive out into the desert and get high. Super high.

Tonight he was really elevated. Pi breezed past his tightly shut eyes. Numbers whirred and his foot pressed down on the accelerator, urging his '99 Nissan Maxima down loosely defined paths.

Nate never came to the end of Pi, because it didn't end. It never repeated. He used to think he was like Pi, special, unique, never repeating. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. That doesn't really matter now, because tonight, he was really elevated. Even with his eyes closed the stars were fucking beautiful. He painted masterpieces, celestial landscapes in his mind. All the while numbers, Pi, zipped through his brain, through his camera brain, through his computer mind, through his genius.



Nate used to drive out into the desert and get high. Super high.

Tonight, Pi ended. It stopped when it shouldn't have.
The numbers, they just ran out. For Nate, they had always continued if he wanted. Now though, he couldn't get them to scroll across his machine vision.

His eyes snapped open with a jolt of adrenalin. He was so surprised, he didn't react.

He no longer saw numbers, he no longer saw Pi. He only saw a man walking in his path. His Maxima tried in vain to avoid the inescapable.

Car and creature connected.

It was a simple math equation. A vehicle weighing over 4,000 Lbs. traveling 25 mph leaves Arizona at 11:37 P.M. 20 minutes later it strikes a man, now going 74 mph, and weighing the same.

Maxima = Vehicle Velocity x Total Weight
Vehicle Velocity (74) x Total Weight (4,000) = Steel Death.
Maxima = Steel Death
Steel Death + Man = Death
Maxima + Man = Death
Death > Man

As the car came sliding to a stop, a dust cloud kicked up by the tires enveloped the scene. The man had flown forward and lay motionless, illuminated by a broken headlight and a waning moon.

Nate tried desperately to make the numbers distract his mind. He couldn't do it. He...couldn't...

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