DECODE - Ford Band Club
DECODE by Paramore
Vanishing Point: Middle West, Citizenship
From Vanishing Point: Not a Memoir , which will be published by Graywolf Press on March 31, 2010.
The midwest, which is to say the debate about what the midwest is or contains (Missouri? North dakota? Pennsylvania? Nebraska?), which is to say part of the section between the coasts, the middle before you get to the west, is about transit. It is transitional. We know this caught in mile-long streams of traffic and trucks queueing up behind and beside another, three wide at times, to transport materials or goods from one place to another, through the middle of the country. Though this space, this horizontality, would appear to be static, with the small towns where little seems to change, or so television tells us, and everyone moves slowly and drinks at the same bars day in and out—what appears to be a static equilibrium, a balanced equation—is still all about transition, from one place to another. It is for us at this moment, driving from small college to small college in our rented ford escape, escaping from little, escaping to little, incapable of any real sort of escape, if we wanted to attempt it, having no skills to speak of, and loving the world enough to continue wanting all of it, hungry hungry hippo style, coveting it in all its glory and variety. We are in the metal exoskeleton of the car, ipod playing familiar music through the speakers (and the world accordingly transforming itself cartoonlike as in a number of television commercials for mp3 players—the world can be made over, our experience transformed, as easy as this via soundtrack), climate control set to keep us at a temperature we are used to, electric seating system positioned for the idea of comfort: we are as at home of music lists and listeners), everywhere around us, even in the air. We have the gps plugged in, too, so there’s no need for maps, and the whole idea of being lost is now entirely quaint (which is a sadness because we like the darkness of the unexplored map, but we are practical: we also want to get there and back quickly, and besides we can see the world passing by in real time as we drive via gps, the names of roads and rivers and golf courses; wecould almost drive with the gps only and not pay attention to the actual world around us, but technology hasn’t got us there quite yet). We are self-sufficient. Located. In command. An american dream. An orgasm on the move. It is really fucking great.
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