bus trips

there's something marvellous about the trip from canberra to sydney via bus.  i like road trips, i like sitting and watching the green and blue and space move past me. 

i read "the easter parade" by richard yates on the way to sydney. it was... utterly marvellous.  despite the fact the content was ... depressing is the wrong word, - it's a fairly relentless book, and not a lot of good things happen to the characters, but the intimacy you gain with the two women and their mother, their memories and regrets and loves and their aging is a tremendous thing.





i have been thinking a lot about aging lately.  some morbid, some confused, some frightened.  we live in an unsatisfying cult of youth and gratification and purchasing our way to happiness.  it's easy to get caught up in it.  it's Lazy to get caught up in it. 

last night, i felt back breakingly lonely when i was lying in bed.  i texted a friend who is sometimes, the wisest person i know.  his actions can lie about this, but under the delusion and confusion and the lust that clouds my vision in relation to him, his mind is one of the most beautiful things i've ever seen.

i asked him if he got lonely.
he said:
 i get lonely when i compare myself to another person or expectation.  i feel immersed and unbound when nouns do not seize control.  allow the universe to universe, the pamphlet to pamphlet, and the idiot to idiot; then i pursue my own ignorance in the ecosystem i have chosen.  (loneliness often rides w ignorance).   

next time i feel lonely, i'm going to remember this. i am going to gather it around me like dirty red sheets and bundle it under me like books and learning, and wrap it under my neck like a cowl.  my bunnies will talk to me without nouns, and i'll give all my books to strangers who don't love them, and i'll burn my clothes until all i am left with are leggings for yoga that are hideous but comfortable.  this won't make me free, but it will make me move.