2:38 3:00 5:38 2:20 3:15 5:35 1:40 3:00 5:52 Card # 10402429 "Visit your nearest participating location with either name information or your old card number and a member of management will transfer your old card information to your new card."
Into the Wild. Lust, Caution. Darjeeling Limited. Once. Michael Clayton.
A bird flies through the patchwork buildings overhead. A lone messenger of Outside against the lights of the city, fighting the dim dusk of sunset, the clouds scattered like peach scrubbing bubbles. A woman crosses the street horizontally perpendicular to my path. She is wearing red pumps. I laugh and wonder whether she is going to meet someone or hoping to meet someone. There is road construction. I ignore the traffic. I walk past a prints shop. In a painting of the ocean, a woman stares on the sand as a fish as large as a mountain kisses another from the sky. I smile at its questionable artistry. At the bus stop, I sit and lean against a Willamette Week dispenser. A group of rowdy teens arrive and throw empty cans at the ground.
"Happiness is only real when shared."
A movie like Into the Wild changes your outlook on the wonders and scraps of life for about one week.
8 Jackson Park farts exhaust. Biofuel can be improper.
Graffiti on a barren concrete building I have never understood before reads RELAPS. Baja Fresh advertises above. Is this comical?
12 to Sherwood is warm like a marshmallow down blanket, nearly smothering. The breeze from the window across from my seat in the corner of the handicapped row softly pumps green sharpie fumes through and out my lungs. I wonder whether I am on the right bus, but when we pass the stop at PSU where I took improv class and learned that drama can be meaningless if you don't have a connection, wow that was a long off-topic point, I am assured.
Jimmy Eat World pounds soothingly on my eardrums and I am reminded how They chose not to visit on Their tour and how I cared too little to look into a concert in Washington. Also new album on the 16th which I will probably not get until Christmas. A woman sitting not right next to me coughs. I click my sharpie closed and shut my eyes as I let motion take way. I Will Follow You Into The Dark Death Cab For Cutie.
Old man on bus, red glare. Native American woman and the two drums she just made. Destitute, not decrepid, balding overgrown hairy sad guy smells of cherries and alcohol.
Starbucks. KT Tunstall Tall Buildings Fading In The Distance. Maybe I should have picked up something other than a sharpie? Tall Java Chip Frappaccino. "Nice whip on that," quips my barista's co-worker. Mmmm. I lick off the top and delve into warm creamy calorific coating euphoria, try to drink but it's too thick. It's getting dark. Peach bubbles decay to dirty snow in a foggy puddle of faded forgotten blue. I have to go home before my cats die of starvation, but I hope someone I admire will pass me by once more, though it's admittedly unlikely.
I think KT is done. So it's time for me to click the sharpie again and head up the hill. X on my thumb.
Green brown red blue gray. Monopoly is back.