Sitting on a bus home from Toronto, waiting for it to finish loading.
Oh man, this bus is seriously filling up. Like, the way I fill up a refill at McDonalds – Aggressively.
Generally I would welcome having someone sit in the empty space beside me. A chance to engage with someone, get to know them, if they want – and regardless to observe myself interacting with someone else. Ah, that fascinating ‘social contract.’ But currently I am really feeling maintaining the personal space of the emptiness beside me. Do I make weird levels of eye contact with people as they walk on, to deter them from sitting beside me? Oh man – tempting, because that would be hilarious – and a cool way to play with the social construct. Ofcourse, it’s easy to do it in a way that makes you come off as a dick, and it takes a lot of energy to rock that d-bag vibe… I could make friendly eye-contact, – as in Aggressively friendly – and come off as creepy or insane, that usually works Really well, especially with the ladies. lol. Depends on availability of seats, I suppose… if anyone Needs this spot I would let them, if anyone sat there
Ha. The bus begins to move again, and my personal space remains sacred. A tiny part of me vaguely regrets the lost potential for interacting with another human … but it is over ruled by not only the space I still have, but also how much easier it will be to sleep… Ah, sleep …. to drift off into the oblivion which I seek…for I grow weary. My candle is burnt on both ends.
And, more importantly, there is no internet on this bus, turning it from a productive paradise to a dreary theatre of reality. Now, I must read or write, and read only articles that I have already downloaded, or those beautiful but awkward creatures we still call “books.” Word still works, though, so atleast I can copy this later and post it as a blog – lol. Or, if these passtimes do not please me, is there nothing better than to find solace in one’s own thoughts, to lay back with eyes closed and seek nothing more than restful oblivion. I think I will contemplate these matters while eating the apple in my backpack (hey, it worked for Newton, maybe I can put it in the baggage compartment so that it falls on me when the bus turns lol).
So I finished my apple – delicious, by the way. Neat and crisp, just the way an apple should be fresh, slightly tangy but still very sweet, each bite a small explosion of flavour in my mouth… and I wonder, at apples. Born the child of plant sex (such as it is), the seed of angiosperm, wrapped in a tantalizing layer of juicy nutrition. In every seed, the genetic and organic material for a giant and beautiful tree to bear more fruit with more such seeds… ah, how valliant life self-perpetuates. In a way its like trying to be an actor, or following any dream for that matter – one creates tiny fruit after tiny fruit, each one with one’s ideas and a touch of soul, like the seeds, surrounded by varying degrees of effort like the nutrition that tempts humans and other creatures to pluck the apple and bring it to a new spot. Each one carries our thoughts and hopes for the future: but so many will not seed, or become seedlings that are themselves eaten, or be t
hrown in the garbage by some Hollywood producer. So always we bear more fruit, we make more apples… hoping that one day, one of them will find just the right bit of soil and light, and grow into a glorious tree of its own, and bear fruit of its own accord.
Ahh, life and its mysteries. Yaweh – or Allah, or Jesus, or “Daddy,” or “nothing except empty probability” (that’s atheism there) – whatever you wish to describe the “Compounded life energy of the universe” (that one is probably my fave”) … Ye done good, Apple-maker. Ye done good.
But speaking of life energy… mine wears thin. Time to go to the bus washroom to change into my comfy “travel” pants… maybe rub one off, we’ll see how we feel – BECAUSE MASTURBATION IS NATURAL AND HEALTHY, OK? Fack, we all have needs. Actually, I firmly believe that more of us need to touch ourselves in public washrooms. Some of you, dear Blog-Reader* might be like “Eew, you perv!” and lets be honest, you’re not wrong, but hey – it’s a need, right? A biological need we all have to a degree. Like shitting, only less gross, and also most of us have to masturbate signigicantly less often then we defecate, so many of us save it for the comfort of our own home… but if your more lascivious needs (great word isn’t it, Lascivious. Lol. Heard it at a party the other night) become more urgent in a public place, then Meet those needs, say I! Better than sitting there making awkward eye contact with people while trying to hide an erection or feeling yourself drip (depending on your genitalia) and not to slip into picturing someone naked. F••• that, just beat one off and go back to your lives. What are we, Victorian England?
And speaking of Victorian England … Hmm… Actually – you know, I’ve been told that blog posts shouldn’t be too long, and this is getting a bit much, isn’t it ….
The continuation of this discussion will be posted as another blog, a “part two”! (A part two of a post – Ha! And they said I wouldn’t last! lol). If you are enjoying this blog post, please see the rest of it, on – have I communicated this yet? – the Next one! If you are not enjoying this, then – that’s cool, although Masochism is making a comeback since ancient Rome, so its your call.
*Footnote: (because I’ve always wanted one. Yay, I has a foot note!) – “Blog-Reader.” What do we call them? Well … “Dear Reader” would work, could always use that classic. There is also “Blog Reader” – not super creative, but bonus points on logical description. Is there a newer one we can start using? I mean, if you really like Wine or Tea, they call you a “Sommelier.” Do we like “Bloggelier ? Or, we use “tarian” for things we consume (vegetarian, piscetarian, boozatarian…) how is “Blogitarian”? Then again, the ol’ Latin used “Vore” for things we consume (you know, herbivore, carnivore, omnivore, pornivore) how do we feel about “Blogivore.” hmmm … “Dear Blogivores” …. I dig it. I think I may try to work this in sometime.
To Be Continued ….