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As always, still taking questions, too: Ask Me Anything.
marginaliana asked: What's your favorite physical, non-living object? So, no pets or people, but it could be anything else out there in the world.
Damn, pulling no punches here. I'm struggling with this one. Saying, for example, books feels like cheating not only because that is clearly more than one physical object but also because, in their own way, they're kind of alive. They're full of characters and worlds and one of the big reasons I read is to fall into that for awhile. Physical copies of movies, video games, tv shows -- the same. Similarly, it feels like cheating to say the ocean, mostly because it really feels like a living thing. Not just the lifeforms within it (GIANT OCTOPUS, COME BE MY FRIEND), but the ocean itself, the movement and the danger and the beauty.
Other things fall the same way: My studio? Not just one thing but the combination of everything it in, including the art I've created, which lives in its own way, and the instruments and recording devices are all tied to the nontangible things I make with them, that's what makes them important. My octopus collection or my Stitch collection or my carefully curated collection of Funko Pops? I can't choose just one. Sex toys come and sex toys go. Same with clothes.
But then I realized duh, my favorite physical, non-living object is always the vehicle I'm currently driving. Everything else is wonderful, I love the majority of things I own, but my vehicle is the thing I would miss most if I had to give it up.
I love to drive. I love it. I grew up on the road with my dad each summer when he was a long-haul truck driver. We lived out on a farm up until I was around 10, and so we drove any time we needed to go to a bookstore or a church or the optometrist or to visit family, etc. I got my license the second I could, I'd rather road trip than travel any other way. The thing I do to calm down from heartbreak or rage or fear, the thing I do to work out plot points and come up with new stories and figure out wording, the thing I do to layout a strong argument for work projects, the thing I do to explore and talk to people and spend time with myself and hang out with the dog and and and and: I drive hard, windows down and music up.
I love to drive into sunrise and into sunset even as the light burns my eyes. I love crosscountry in the darkness, just me and truckers on the highway, the stars bright overhead between towns. I love driving down state highways with cornfields green and golden and terrifying on either side. I love driving down narrow gravel roads made even tighter by the tree branches stretched out overhead, the bushes scraping the sides of the car.
I love to ride my motorcycle on the curviest roads, leaning into it. I love hot days when riding through tree shadows is noticeably cooler for that glorious moment. I love wind against my cheeks and drying my lips, the heat of the pipes nearly too much against my legs, the weight of the bike beneath me. I love riding in a pack, all those engines loud. I love riding alone, making my own way through the world.
It is freedom and emotional regulation and hope and more.
So that's it: My favorite physical, non-living object is whatever vehicle I drive. Currently, that's a Dodge Charger. (My beloved bike needs serious work, so it's not on the road this summer.) I've loved every vehicle I've ever owned even though some were better than others, and enjoyed pretty much every borrowed or rental car I've ever used, but I love the Charger most of all.
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Damn, pulling no punches here. I'm struggling with this one. Saying, for example, books feels like cheating not only because that is clearly more than one physical object but also because, in their own way, they're kind of alive. They're full of characters and worlds and one of the big reasons I read is to fall into that for awhile. Physical copies of movies, video games, tv shows -- the same. Similarly, it feels like cheating to say the ocean, mostly because it really feels like a living thing. Not just the lifeforms within it (GIANT OCTOPUS, COME BE MY FRIEND), but the ocean itself, the movement and the danger and the beauty.
Other things fall the same way: My studio? Not just one thing but the combination of everything it in, including the art I've created, which lives in its own way, and the instruments and recording devices are all tied to the nontangible things I make with them, that's what makes them important. My octopus collection or my Stitch collection or my carefully curated collection of Funko Pops? I can't choose just one. Sex toys come and sex toys go. Same with clothes.
But then I realized duh, my favorite physical, non-living object is always the vehicle I'm currently driving. Everything else is wonderful, I love the majority of things I own, but my vehicle is the thing I would miss most if I had to give it up.
I love to drive. I love it. I grew up on the road with my dad each summer when he was a long-haul truck driver. We lived out on a farm up until I was around 10, and so we drove any time we needed to go to a bookstore or a church or the optometrist or to visit family, etc. I got my license the second I could, I'd rather road trip than travel any other way. The thing I do to calm down from heartbreak or rage or fear, the thing I do to work out plot points and come up with new stories and figure out wording, the thing I do to layout a strong argument for work projects, the thing I do to explore and talk to people and spend time with myself and hang out with the dog and and and and: I drive hard, windows down and music up.
I love to drive into sunrise and into sunset even as the light burns my eyes. I love crosscountry in the darkness, just me and truckers on the highway, the stars bright overhead between towns. I love driving down state highways with cornfields green and golden and terrifying on either side. I love driving down narrow gravel roads made even tighter by the tree branches stretched out overhead, the bushes scraping the sides of the car.
I love to ride my motorcycle on the curviest roads, leaning into it. I love hot days when riding through tree shadows is noticeably cooler for that glorious moment. I love wind against my cheeks and drying my lips, the heat of the pipes nearly too much against my legs, the weight of the bike beneath me. I love riding in a pack, all those engines loud. I love riding alone, making my own way through the world.
It is freedom and emotional regulation and hope and more.
So that's it: My favorite physical, non-living object is whatever vehicle I drive. Currently, that's a Dodge Charger. (My beloved bike needs serious work, so it's not on the road this summer.) I've loved every vehicle I've ever owned even though some were better than others, and enjoyed pretty much every borrowed or rental car I've ever used, but I love the Charger most of all.