Bus Rides.

Sights seen and promptly dismissed with an apathetic eye;

We became participants in the forgetting experience//the forgetting of experiences…

We lost the longing for the man who sits behind us–

meticulously rolling cigarettes across the aisle, back and forth with the rocking of gravel, knocking shut an Altoid tin, getting off on Hennepin and Lake

We disappear under layers of makeup and mid-winter mud caked on our coats, shuffling past filled seats

We’re lost, frantically scanning bus maps

We’re reading romance novels on our iPads, husking out the pieces of chocolate from candy wrappers

We’re the little girl in the back, choreographing our hands on top of imprinted stories pushes against the glass

We’re ink on jeans

We’re fragranced with the fever of 9-5

Given life by the dusty shine of billboards and ice

We stockpile boredom and bile,

All this in a coagulation, through the dull churning of mundanities.


Listen–I believe that people are perfectible, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkledy lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women. I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone’s ass…I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman. I believe that mankind’s destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it’s aerodynamically impossible for a bumblebee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there’s a cat in a box somewhere who’s alive and dead at the same time, and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself. I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn’t even know that I’m alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of casual chaos, background noise and sheer blind luck. I believe that anyone who says that sex is overrated just hasn’t done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what’s going on will lie about the little things too. I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. …I believe that life is a game, life is a cruel joke and that life is what happens when you’re alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it.”

~Neil Gaiman, American Gods

The Painted Drum.

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could. 

~ Louise Erdrich.