On the bus with one backpack. When I was younger, I’m twenty eight now, but when I was about seventeen, I used to take a lot of LSD then watch a lot of bands, sit in cars, shit talking, smoking and looking through greasy glasses at a shifting world. Not much made sense then. Like trying to understand God, if he exists, or why things are or happen the way they do. After awhile I just gave up. Because the thoughts could never be answered, not satisfactorily, and because anyone who claimed to be an expert on life was generally just as burnt out themselves. The questions are starting to come up again. I hate them. I think the bus has an overflowing septic tank. I wish that kid next to me would turn do his noise. Sleep time now I guess.