paralax999

so i'm riding the bus home this evening, dear nobody, cause the truck is dead, the scoot's still shopbound and the rental fund ran out. but i don't really mind, right, cause it's a beautiful night, supposed ta rain tomorrow, and i enjoy to walk to and from the bus stop. and i'm on the bus, cramped into this seat between a man with a flaming skull trucker hat and this enormous man in filthy overalls with some matching b.o. but whatever, right, cause it's the bus and i'm just grateful, after many previous years of experience that no one is puking, fighting, or scratching at exotic skin disorders. and the man with the overalls, he sort of crazy like and pathetic all at the same time is trying to get the attention of the ladies across from us, pleading for them to open a window. they ignore the large dirty man. one feigns sleep and the other turns up the volume on her walkman. so, i figure, i ain't done nothing kind for no reason today, and i go ahead and open the window for the fella. he wants to chat about how "people" are so ineffectual. how no one wants to open a window, how he suffers from the stuffy conditions of the bus, how some bus drivers actually turn on the heat. me, i say, "well it's open now." and ten minutes later he still wants to talk about the windows. so i look at him, and say, "you can't seem to let go of things can ya. you can't let these things stay with you, otherwise you'll just be miserable." he says, "but i can't let it go, it just isn't fair." and i laugh, cause nothing is and why should it be, and the guy next to me, with the hat chirps in with a, "yeah and then you die." he saved me at this point and we talked about the benenfits of slicks over knobbies in city riding and the lifecycle of the urban shrew. the man in the overalls continued to mutter.

my sister calls me in tears and i got to make her laugh and realize that even though nothing makes a difference, this doesn't mean that you can't make one in someone else's life.
cause what else is there really that lasts?

and the best thing is that my good friend, one of the dearest people to me on the planet, called after a long absence to tell me that at long last, she's gonna check into rehab instead of killing herself with drink.

what a great fucking day.

oh, and i get to go to the folsom street fair in s.f. this weekend, dress up like a nun and wave baby jesus butt plugs and jackhammer jesus' in everyones face. all in the name of capitalism and friendship of course.