Pushing through bullshit of the farmland always scared me at this time of year, and i mean that literally. It was so god damn hot out all the time that the manure started to become part of the air itself.
Toronto. I can’t begin to describe how much I despise that city. Wall to wall people. Smog. Gridlocked traffic. Constantly. Even at midnight- backed up traffic snaking down the streets. Clusters of humanity too close for comfort.
Gridlocked. I’ve heard of the word but I couldn’t tell you what it means. Reminds me of the grids that shoot smoke on the pavement downtown and the big frog lock I use to struggle to find a use for when I was little. I suppose I just wanted a lock. For privacy of my stupid secrets.
She laughed maniacally as everything on the highway grinded to a halt. The Big Gulp she’d been sipping on suddenly seemed like the universe’s idea of a cruel joke. A calvary of fire engines, state troopers and ambulances raced up the opposite side of the road as traffic stood still. On her left, the forest whispered, calling her to take relief. She glanced around and then just said “f*ck it’ and ran off to do her business as a hundred eyes watched on in amusement.
That was a movie with Tupac and Tim Roth in the nineties. But I’m not sure if it was before or after Juiced. Another movie I remember from that time frame. It is a whimsical memory this partition of my brain that recalls crowd sourced syllable animosity and then questions further desire or focused.
The traffic was unbearable. There was no moving anywhere, forwards, backwards, side-wards… Is side-wards a thing? She didn’t really care. She put her chin on her arms and stared out the windows. They were supposed to be at her aunt and uncle’s hours ago. Instead, they were stuck here, moving slower than 40 turtles stuck in molasses.
Gridlocked war eine wunderschönes kleines Mädchen mit der Fähigkeit, Leute zum Lieben und zum Leben zu bringen. Sie mochte die Natur und Schönheit hinter jedem noch so kleinen Ding. Beispielsweise dem Garten, in dem sie aufwuchs, mit dem großen, grünen Apfelbaum, dessen Blätter sie im Sommer vor der Hitze schützten. Als sie kleiner war, verbrachte sie jede freie Minute un
Gridlocked. You can’t get out. Fences gnashed together in a cage enclosing you. You claw at the metal barbs, only for their sharp tines to scratch claw marks into your skin. But you have to climb. Even if it’s a struggle, you have to find your way out.
Th traffic in Thailand, and apparently in Manila. Why is everyone so stuck? Big cars, small cars, motor bikes. You can always get a cab, but where can you go? What’s the solution. Should we just not go? Should we ride together? I love driving. I love the wide open world and seeing the mountains. I want to drive out west in the wide open desert and see something I’ve never seen. Gridlock is an impediment. It makes me want to not travel, it feels defeating and makes me second guess going. Maybe it would just be better to stay?
Time was ticking, every second feels like an hour, and she was going to be late. Frustration and pent-up anger was filled in her chest, but there was nothing she could do about it. Even the latest album from her favorite artist couldn’t calm her down. She ended up letting out a loud groan and stare at the long line of vehicles in front of her. Through the window, she could see the plethora of vehicles lining up behind her. Oh, today was going to be a very long day.
The night was wet, and fierce, the cars were gridlocked and nobody was moving. You could hear the screams, one car, then another. A flash of an angry mob and then teeth gnashing at tender flesh.
The night was wet, and fierce, the cars were gridlocked and nobody was moving. You could hear the screams, one car, then another. A flash of an angry mob and then teeth gnashing at tender flesh, warm, dark trickles of life flowing down Becca’s cheek.
The traffic was completely gridlocked. All the way up the freeway in each direction, Lisa could not see an end to it. There was no way she would make the wedding now. Not that it mattered really. She somehow didn’t expect anyone thought she would be there. The question was what next?
“Nope,” I sighed, taking my hand off the steering wheel in order to adjust my earpiece. In front of, a red van’s horn was squealing. “The traffic’s all gridlocked. It’s like a parking lot here.”
“What the Hell happened?”
“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”
It turned out that an accident had blocked every single lane – two trucks, two cars, one motorcyclist. Guess which one had been killed on impact.
Sitting in traffic, feeling gridlocked, filled her with fury. She’d been clenching her teeth for so long, she could start to feel a migraine forming in her temples. “Great,” she thought.
The traffic on the way to the coast gridlocked again. It was always the same on the weekend, every joe wanting to get out of the stinking urban landscape and head for the freshness of the beach. Today was meant to be different, the weather was bad surely no
Congress is always gridlocked. Okay, I just want to write about you. I’m disappointed that you’re somewhere else and that you’re not going to take the time to support my performance, but I understand that it won’t be enjoyable. Maybe I am being completely irrational and I should just let this go without telling you. I’m sorry I can be so sentimental sometimes.
Pushing through bullshit of the farmland always scared me at this time of year, and i mean that literally. It was so god damn hot out all the time that the manure started to become part of the air itself.
Toronto. I can’t begin to describe how much I despise that city. Wall to wall people. Smog. Gridlocked traffic. Constantly. Even at midnight- backed up traffic snaking down the streets. Clusters of humanity too close for comfort.
you say ‘this’
i say ‘that’
and no listening
never listen,
so we can stay,
stuck,
gridlocked.
Gridlocked. I’ve heard of the word but I couldn’t tell you what it means. Reminds me of the grids that shoot smoke on the pavement downtown and the big frog lock I use to struggle to find a use for when I was little. I suppose I just wanted a lock. For privacy of my stupid secrets.
She laughed maniacally as everything on the highway grinded to a halt. The Big Gulp she’d been sipping on suddenly seemed like the universe’s idea of a cruel joke. A calvary of fire engines, state troopers and ambulances raced up the opposite side of the road as traffic stood still. On her left, the forest whispered, calling her to take relief. She glanced around and then just said “f*ck it’ and ran off to do her business as a hundred eyes watched on in amusement.
That was a movie with Tupac and Tim Roth in the nineties. But I’m not sure if it was before or after Juiced. Another movie I remember from that time frame. It is a whimsical memory this partition of my brain that recalls crowd sourced syllable animosity and then questions further desire or focused.
Her life seems to be gridlocked in a time warp of sadness that only she understands, and only she can break. For her life is one that only she knows.
I have no idea what gridlocked means. I may imagine that it’s an adjective used for something that is fastened on a grid-like object.
Perhaps related to this impression, it feels a bit “pressing” – almost too tight.
The traffic was unbearable. There was no moving anywhere, forwards, backwards, side-wards… Is side-wards a thing? She didn’t really care. She put her chin on her arms and stared out the windows. They were supposed to be at her aunt and uncle’s hours ago. Instead, they were stuck here, moving slower than 40 turtles stuck in molasses.
Gridlocked. The street was full of cars, not a single one could drive because there was this huge ewpoiuräeprujeäpwujreu0rj
The taxi, just as suddenly as it accelerated, has stopped dead.
“What’s the matter?” asked the passenger on the back seat.
“The intersection’s gridlocked.” The driver responded.
Gridlocked war eine wunderschönes kleines Mädchen mit der Fähigkeit, Leute zum Lieben und zum Leben zu bringen. Sie mochte die Natur und Schönheit hinter jedem noch so kleinen Ding. Beispielsweise dem Garten, in dem sie aufwuchs, mit dem großen, grünen Apfelbaum, dessen Blätter sie im Sommer vor der Hitze schützten. Als sie kleiner war, verbrachte sie jede freie Minute un
Gridlocked. You can’t get out. Fences gnashed together in a cage enclosing you. You claw at the metal barbs, only for their sharp tines to scratch claw marks into your skin. But you have to climb. Even if it’s a struggle, you have to find your way out.
The old teacher is completely gridlocked in his thinking.
Everything but open-minded or innovative.
Therefore, the kids are bored to death.
Th traffic in Thailand, and apparently in Manila. Why is everyone so stuck? Big cars, small cars, motor bikes. You can always get a cab, but where can you go? What’s the solution. Should we just not go? Should we ride together? I love driving. I love the wide open world and seeing the mountains. I want to drive out west in the wide open desert and see something I’ve never seen. Gridlock is an impediment. It makes me want to not travel, it feels defeating and makes me second guess going. Maybe it would just be better to stay?
Time was ticking, every second feels like an hour, and she was going to be late. Frustration and pent-up anger was filled in her chest, but there was nothing she could do about it. Even the latest album from her favorite artist couldn’t calm her down. She ended up letting out a loud groan and stare at the long line of vehicles in front of her. Through the window, she could see the plethora of vehicles lining up behind her. Oh, today was going to be a very long day.
Facing a gridlock, the impatient drivers honk furiously, making a seamlrss flow of disharmony.
The night was wet, and fierce, the cars were gridlocked and nobody was moving. You could hear the screams, one car, then another. A flash of an angry mob and then teeth gnashing at tender flesh.
The night was wet, and fierce, the cars were gridlocked and nobody was moving. You could hear the screams, one car, then another. A flash of an angry mob and then teeth gnashing at tender flesh, warm, dark trickles of life flowing down Becca’s cheek.
The traffic was completely gridlocked. All the way up the freeway in each direction, Lisa could not see an end to it. There was no way she would make the wedding now. Not that it mattered really. She somehow didn’t expect anyone thought she would be there. The question was what next?
“Are you anywhere near the stadium?”
“Nope,” I sighed, taking my hand off the steering wheel in order to adjust my earpiece. In front of, a red van’s horn was squealing. “The traffic’s all gridlocked. It’s like a parking lot here.”
“What the Hell happened?”
“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”
It turned out that an accident had blocked every single lane – two trucks, two cars, one motorcyclist. Guess which one had been killed on impact.
Sitting in traffic, feeling gridlocked, filled her with fury. She’d been clenching her teeth for so long, she could start to feel a migraine forming in her temples. “Great,” she thought.
The traffic on the way to the coast gridlocked again. It was always the same on the weekend, every joe wanting to get out of the stinking urban landscape and head for the freshness of the beach. Today was meant to be different, the weather was bad surely no
Congress is always gridlocked. Okay, I just want to write about you. I’m disappointed that you’re somewhere else and that you’re not going to take the time to support my performance, but I understand that it won’t be enjoyable. Maybe I am being completely irrational and I should just let this go without telling you. I’m sorry I can be so sentimental sometimes.
We were late to the party because we got stuck at a gridlock.