On a long and lonesome highway east of Omaha.

Driving down the highway at 120kph, with the sweet, sweet sounds of a fender telecaster thinline fed through an ibanez tube-screamer and hooked up to a marshall stack.

When was the last time you felt as if you didn't have to give a piss about the state of the world (and its unfortunate inhabitants) today?

I have never been able to lose myself to the moment (In fact, I find it hard to lose myself to or in anything non-geographic in nature). In consolation, I have always been able to find myself in the moment. Then lose the moment in its entirety. Thus I spend too much time being mindful of my consciousness, hoping that when the moment comes, I can appreciate it beyond its descriptive value as a measure of time past.

Of course, being overly conscious of the self accentuates that inability to lose yourself, even if it may allow deeper introspection at that crucial moment.

So I had to write, before I lose the moment again. That feeling of having all arrows point forward and not having to care about the rear-view mirror because it hardly differed from the front, yet it had to defer to the front. The feeling of speed, freedom and that slight tugging on your heart every time that telecaster hit a high note and faded off with whammy-induced reverb.

I had to write because I wanted to turn the moment into momentum.

Ang Heng