OK the weather sucks. No it double sucks. In fact Dyson Vacuums have nothing on this years East Coast winter.
WARNING : If you can not stand grammatical errors or typos then do not bother reading. Otherwise enjoy : )
March 23 2009. OK This weather sucks. No it double sucks. In fact Dyson Vacuums have nothing on this years East Coast winter. My first worry as I write this is the double hooded guy sitting in front of me with half a cup of melting snow on his outer hood. ( Sounds like a medical descriptive of female genitalia) Fu@K as I suspected he moved and three water droplets skimmed the outer lid of my apple Mac. I want to cry but I am a grown man. ( So I think, others may think differently.) Ha Ha he also has earphones on playing his music far to loud. He is about the same height as me but far tougher looking so I’ll put up with the loud distortion. In fact it’s not that loud I’m just feeling grumpy. Blame the snow. I can tell todays bus home is gong to be brutal. Another young man has sat next to the man in front and he to sports larger headphones. It’s distortion in stereo. At least everyone else is smiling on the bus. NOT. I kept thinking of Natasha Richardson. The actress who died last week from a hemorrhage on her brain due to a minor skiing accident. Well minor being a major. Obviously it is a tragic accident and I am sad for all the people and family who knew her personally. If this had been a nobody, a regular Jane who no one would have known, no one would have been any the wiser and so you have to say. Because of the person and then the publicity it could actually save lives because just for a fleeting moment of time. A blink of an eye in evolution people who ski will sit up and be affected by Natasha Richardsons death. They will think about putting a helmet on whilst skiing. With the end of the season coming up at Martock and the Slush Cup perhaps it is time to consider a blanket enforcement of compulsory helmets, not just the under 16s.
I’ll leave you with this thought on a grey spring/winter/spring like day. Be thankful of your close friends and family. cherish them and love them for you never know what hand life may deal you. As quick as someone is there they can be gone……
March 20 2009 Friday Off. MIt’s a day off for me. A bloggers day off. So people enjoy the end of your March break. Lets see what next week brings. I think I’ll go make a coffee.
March 18 2009 I had to take the car today.Only a quick trip but none the less just as interesting. Why do you guys drive so close to each others backside? I am surprised there are not more accidents. Listening to Radiohead on the way in helped calm me. What a great band. Ouch that hurt, don’t worry it was only a pot hole. When will they fill them i this year? Could a driver sue the HRM if there shocks explode while crashing into one of those craters? Driving with the window down makes me feel good. I think briefly about the people I like and the few I dislike. Will I get paid for my last job. It’s been three months since I sent in an invoice. I should make a call. Crossing the bridge is very satisfying on a day like today. Looking out to the peninsula, it is stunning. Over the summer the bridge should be closed on a Sunday afternoon and a car cruise should be held on it. Including vintage, classic and custom vehicles. Loud music and food. I flick the indicator on and the Bridge is behind me. The past. History. Gone. In front of me is the future. The unknown.
Here I come.
MARCH 17 2009 “I’ve just done seven months” Is what I heard first. Then I gave him two black eyes and a fat lip. Yeah and he was bigger than me. Two guys sit with many other people. Hold on, one of them knows the chick who is walking (sitting now) on crutches. The waft of fried steak comes through the window. The Brick Oven on Spring Garden. I think. Another man sitting in front listens to music …to loud. Am I really getting that old. He’s taken off the headphones. Great the noise of uninterrupted traffic and the bus exhaust. Bhit he’s just put them back on. I think he must be pathologically deaf, if you can be pathologically deaf that is. The heat today is different. The office began to feel stuffy. I don’t think to many executives had that problem today, many of them were out celebrating the little green men day. Which is in fact what I am about to do. I shall have three pints of Guinness and an Irish Stew. I will get ripped off but I hope it will be worth it. I noticed a the deaf homeless girl stands outside Tim Hortons on Barrington Street dressed up for the occasion. Good to see all the community getting into the spirit. Oh dea, a man has just boarded who, I think, he thinks he is in the secret service. The sunglasses are a give away to how people perceive themselves. He’s just turned to the side and he has a profile like the goblin out of Lord Of The Rings. How unfortunate. I see the driver who alighted his own bus at the weekend to theatrically club the stuffed seal that was being used in a demonstration on Anti seal hunting, Has been suspended. I wonder what was going through his head before he got off the bus. Apparently he was just saying to another passenger before the incident ” hoe unfairly the transit bus drivers had been treated amidst the latest press coverage” Perhaps he too works for the secret service and saw an opportunity to infiltrate a subversive group of students and mums. Perhaps he now gives himself a reprimand whilst looking in the mirror at himself. ” Sir can you please get off the bus. I’ve asked you nicely, please get off the bus.” Sorry my train of thought has been interrupted by a man with very, very short hair has just boarded carrying a white cardboard box. He looks nervous. He has just sat right in front of me. He holds on tight to the box. What treasures are hiding inside?
The cell phone has just rang..Hold ON……….I love this place. Tomorrow my guffers..
MARCH 16 2009 FEven with insulated ski gloves on, my fingertips were frozen solid. There are ten people on my journey home.rom the look of the back of their heads they all are concerned with good hair grooming. Well apart from the young man who has just walked on. He has sat next to me with a cap on under his hoodie and a coat hood over the top of them both. NICE! Today was a good day. I wander if it was the same for the immigrant student who has just boarded I can se him looking at the graffiti on the back of the chair in front of him. It reads There is a red house over yonder that’s were my baby stay. The five people standing at the bus stop all have woolen hats on and stand rigid. The sun is full on. I am warm on the bus now. But outside is a different story. The immigrant student stares out at the basin. I think he is think What the @*$! am I doing here? The smell of fresh mint. A woman sits right in front of me , she is chewing gum and the smell infuses with the smell of her sweat having run for the bus. I assume it is her sweat, It could be the man in front of her I suppose. In fact I think it might be. Widening my nostrils and breathing in deeply make me come to that conclusion. Looking out of the window again I notice something is different. minimal ice. Today is a good day.
12 March 2009 The weekend has arrived. The sun is out. Next to me sits a lady reading a book. I wonder what she does for a living. But that thought is quickly gonebecause the sun storms into my eyes and breaks my thought pattern. Another peiece of the Just Us Cafe chocolate is placed into my mouth.(I always require a suger fix on the Friday journey home). The basin looks so beautiful on days like these. Yesterday it looked like hell on earth. Such a dismal journey on grey days. The Bedford Highway is worse than the pot holed face of CP Allen 12th Grader. I saw a pot hole so big the other day it reminded me of the mouth of my former boss when he would get angry and had the habit of stretching his mouth open but saying nothing. Those days are over and I see the bus driver wave to someone as we wait at a junction. Damn My batteries running low. So I’ll pick this up on Mondy. Have a great wekend commuters of haligonia. Bus journeys were made for thinking.
