Today has been one of those days. Those sort of days where absent mindedness and the various movements of the universe synthesize into an interesting, when not flat out beautiful, collage of experiences.
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After driving the trash to the dump (the city doesn't do waste management for some reason) Elizabeth dropped me off at the bus stop, and we said goodbye with a very nice kiss. I immediately noticed a Tibetan woman in the lotus position on a bench, eyes closed. I listened to BATTLES for a while, admiring her ability to meditate in the middle of a crowded bus stop. I was also admiring her sneakers, tempted to interrupt her revery to let her know as much.
A bus rolled up, and I got on, blissed out by the harmonic collision of drums and guitars rolling around in my brain. After a few yards it suddenly veered to the right, rolling down a road my bus never rolls down.
"New route, huh?" I said to an old guy. I noticed everyone on the bus was old.
"Yup, sure is!" He exclaimed so cheerfully it had to have been true.
I shrugged and the bus continued, veering further and further off course. Then it stopped at the complex of apartments for people on Medicaid.
Now this can't be right. "Hey, is this the R41?"
The bus driver was flanked by two wheelchair ridden men, rolling gracefully into position before being strapped in. He looked up and shook his head.
"No, this is the R44."
I jumped off at that stop, knowing R41 would come down this very road in a few moments, and sure enough, it rolled up as I was nearing the end of the road. I boarded the bus, noticing the Tibetan woman was sitting right across from my usual seat. I sat down, looking at the floor, and realized what I thought were sneakers were actually knit moccasins just like the kind you see at a Tibetan store.
Finally the bus dropped me off, and I walked the rest of the way to work, on the way finding what appeared to be the grave of the industrial age. I ascended the hill above it and took a picture on my iPhone. I'll be bringing my camera with me next time to get a better picture, but I love the arrangement of it.
When I got to the office I immediately realized I had left the cord for my Mac at home, so I went next door and borrowed Christi's. Theo had a friend in, who is editing a comic anthology. He gave me his business card and told me he was looking for submissions. I emailed him my super outdated website to show him my Fishheadman comic.
After another hour, I left the office to catch the 3:40 bus, neglecting to notice that the 3:40 was in Northampton, and wouldn't be stopping by for another hour. Fortunately, there was a wifi network nearby, and the sun was generous with warmth, so I twittered for a while, checked my feeds and email and eventually I went to Eastworks to use the bathroom, which is the best looking bathroom I've ever seen. It's the kind of bathroom designed for men that are dead now. Men that would gather together to all wash up at the same time, and take craps in front of each other with nary a twinge of self-confidence or self-doubt.
It is an artifact of a long dead era, one who's grave resides just outside of my office. My friends and I work and live and eat in the bones of a dinosaur so massive it drank the rivers of the world nearly dry. We are like woodpeckers, repurposing massive complexes created to produce paper and fabric and steel. It shows us that even at our most mechanical, we behave as organically as the bees pollinating flowers and the termites felling trees. We are a massive system of information shitting, eating and eating shit, and it is totally normal.
The bus arrived, on time, and I boarded it. I watched Meet the Press on my iPhone, and when I got off the bus, I bumped into an old friend who had just gotten out of prison. I don't want to get into why, but if you live in Massachusetts, for the love of god, vote yes on question 2 so good people don't go to prison for carrying around a fucking plant. We talked for a while, and his bus came. I took down his contact information (god I fucking love my iPhone) and we agreed to get together to catch up soon.
I wanted a burrito badly, and I knew the four dollars in my pocket was insufficient. Then I noticed a scruffy guy outside of a new pizza place eating the most elaborate slice of pizza I'd seen in months. My stomach was tugging at my pant legs and staring up at me with kitten eyes. I decided a little gluten and carbs wouldn't hurt.
"Hey, how much was that slice?" I asked.
"Three seventy five."
"Hell yeah."
What proceeded was a delicious, albeit under-heated slice of pizza obscured in a thick delicious blanket of black beans, tomatoes and avacado. It was the four dollar burrito I had so craved. The perfect mexitalian book end to a perfect day.