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Opted for the bus
this morning. The automotive lifestyle is
seductive but a waste of time. Instead of
losing one hour to simmering roadrage and
inattention to everything but me and the
obstacles in my path, I gain two hours of
reading, writing, observation,
and reflection. Slanting down Denny on the
8, I noticed this oasis
of desperation, a desert isle hemmed in
by death on all sides, people pushed to
the limit isolated on a sliver of
asphalt and noise. I was on my way
to work, a slave in my own right. Who set
this shit up and will it dissolve like the
city in this picture? Nothing lasts
forever, not even nothing, which is why
there's something and it's all one thing,
but it still hurts to see it fall apart. I
took a shower at the jobsite, ambled in my
finest duds to the 21.
Transfer to rail, stepping onto the
platform at SODO I dude-nodded an elder
who eyed me with contempt and spat, "Fuck
you!" I knew just how he felt and said,
"Thanks!" Then a man with an accent asked
me the way to Columbia City. Was he
visiting? Yes, from Kenya. He shuddered:
"Is it always this cold?" I told him enjoy
it while you can, it's worse once the rain
starts. The train came and we smiled in
parting. There really wasn't room for me
to squeeze in so I let it drift, thinking
maybe the next one would have my wife on
it. It didn't. Sarah and I finally united
at Othello, walked up
to NewHolly for a fundraiser in the
"most diverse zipcode"
in the US.
One
way or another, we are all refugees and
I felt it.
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