Blog Two.

i realized a couple weeks back that i missed riding the bus. i mean, i've known for awhile that i've missed ridin' the greyhound long stretches through the day barreling through books and music and northeast ontario to arrive in frozen montreal, but i mean like the city bus. the sadness of the old ladies taking buses to kill their remaining hours to putter about grocery stores looking to stretch benuded pensions and still cooking for two and not even eating their own. the pretty girls who married young into ugliness and poverty. fat slow men with their dim small friends, laughing dumb at incoherent jokes to disappear at bus stops behind factories, churches and warehouses, all broken. the students that look down their noses, and the students that look down at their feet. i like to think sharing silent anonymous minutes in transit connects us somehow, like in ways bikeriding alone through cold quiet suburbs can't. but, then i ride the bus a bunch, and miss bikeriding slow, through cold and quiet suburbs.