just a bus trip.
Category: Life
well ive almost landed from my last trip. as i sat at the bus stop everything hummed. i could hear what the ants on the sidewalk were saying about the in n out fries that seem to be every were. and it wasnt good. well what do they know about good fries.. was the bus coming or did i nodd out and it passed me by. it was already a quarter to nine. walter was probally in the bar already with his pastels and a story. were was the bus? i was so hungry but only wanted a beer. i havent eatin rite for about three days now. but i have painted my ass off. im so glad i quit that job. what was i thinking . now i have all the time to paint. but i cant let this habit of mine get in the way of the instillations ive been doing for pink. goddamnit it was five till nine and no bus. should i just call a cab??? then thats less beer for me.. wait theres the 291.
why is it that there is always somone on the bus that has to tell thier whole story to the driver. the bus is cold. like an ice box on wheels. i cant miss my stop, i do that somtimes i nodd out and end up at the end of the line. one time i even got robbed..its a good thing i cant take a hit. am i there yet?? no im only at lexington. god this bus is slow. i wonder what walter is going to want to do for a large painting this time. he said somthing about my daughter. but thats such a worn idea. im think more of the idea of man. i was out with a friend the night before. taking pictures of the down town. when we were about to quit because the battery was dying. a black man walked up and asked for a phone. Debbi told him no. and i asked if he had just gotten out of jail. i knew he had. we all have that same look in our eyes when they let you out at 2am. its a mix of confusion and extacy. and if you smoke its even worse. because its probally been days since your last smoke and thats the only thing on your mind. now i know this town but for some one who dosent it can be a maze of closed bars and stores at 2am.. so i see this look in his eyes. and i offer him my last smoke. so as he is rolling it. the wind blows. and all the tabbaco spills. that look of dispare to the look of uncontrold joy when i catch the wad of tabacco in the palm of my hand. and save his fix. at the moment that look, that human emotion, is the abstraction i want to paint . i know because ive been on the other end of that lighter and bag of bugler. i know this from excperance. because i was him and i am still in the futer to be him. the lost man in a strange town no cash, no tobacco, and no direction home. but thats what makes me paint. so i really dont mind.
well it sounded good at first till walter got drunk and started his childish act of look at me .... hes really a great painter. but as for all greats he drinks way to much and spends to much time in other fields in his life. but who am i to say?? i dont think ill do this painting with him. i think those days have passed. im really drunk at this time and its only 11pm.
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my pupils are too big! she yells at me from across the bar. now on the defence for my apperance. i search for my avators, but its 1230 am so whats the blow it? my pupils or my avators at 1230am? no its the no talent hack of a woman i chose to waste my time with. so i decide on the avators at 1230am. i should have just gotten rid of the female who devours my soul.
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to steal $11.oo off the bar,
only to find $5.oo in my bag.
burnt lips and exhaustion
but my heart feels good
just like most people that spend to much time with me,they must feel low.
i want to say i have had enough but my drive pushes me. who do i really think im foolin?
two men in a bathroom stall. a rat on a wire. a sturn warning then blank. a jester shakes his finger at me. denied everything.
young brite eyed writers pristine hairstylist. i must look like a monster to them with my wild xray eyes.
Reply
xavier0371 / Blog
a pomona bus trip
just a bus trip. Category: Life well ive almost landed from my last trip. as i sat at the bus stop everything hummed. i could hear what the ants on the sidewalk were saying about the in n out fries that seem to be every were. and it wasnt good. well what do they know about good fries.. was the bus coming or did i nodd out and it passed me by. it was already a quarter to nine. walter was probally in the bar already with his pastels and a story. were was the bus? i was so hungry but only wanted a beer. i havent eatin rite for about three days now. but i have painted my ass off. im so glad i quit that job. what was i thinking . now i have all the time to paint. but i cant let this habit of mine get in the way of the instillations ive been doing for pink. goddamnit it was five till nine and no bus. should i just call a cab??? then thats less beer for me.. wait theres the 291. why is it that there is always somone on the bus that has to tell thier whole story to the driver. the bus is cold. like an ice box on wheels. i cant miss my stop, i do that somtimes i nodd out and end up at the end of the line. one time i even got robbed..its a good thing i cant take a hit. am i there yet?? no im only at lexington. god this bus is slow. i wonder what walter is going to want to do for a large painting this time. he said somthing about my daughter. but thats such a worn idea. im think more of the idea of man. i was out with a friend the night before. taking pictures of the down town. when we were about to quit because the battery was dying. a black man walked up and asked for a phone. Debbi told him no. and i asked if he had just gotten out of jail. i knew he had. we all have that same look in our eyes when they let you out at 2am. its a mix of confusion and extacy. and if you smoke its even worse. because its probally been days since your last smoke and thats the only thing on your mind. now i know this town but for some one who dosent it can be a maze of closed bars and stores at 2am.. so i see this look in his eyes. and i offer him my last smoke. so as he is rolling it. the wind blows. and all the tabbaco spills. that look of dispare to the look of uncontrold joy when i catch the wad of tabacco in the palm of my hand. and save his fix. at the moment that look, that human emotion, is the abstraction i want to paint . i know because ive been on the other end of that lighter and bag of bugler. i know this from excperance. because i was him and i am still in the futer to be him. the lost man in a strange town no cash, no tobacco, and no direction home. but thats what makes me paint. so i really dont mind. well it sounded good at first till walter got drunk and started his childish act of look at me .... hes really a great painter. but as for all greats he drinks way to much and spends to much time in other fields in his life. but who am i to say?? i dont think ill do this painting with him. i think those days have passed. im really drunk at this time and its only 11pm.
Reply
Avators at 12:30 am
my pupils are too big! she yells at me from across the bar. now on the defence for my apperance. i search for my avators, but its 1230 am so whats the blow it? my pupils or my avators at 1230am? no its the no talent hack of a woman i chose to waste my time with. so i decide on the avators at 1230am. i should have just gotten rid of the female who devours my soul.
Reply
$16.oo in the morning
to steal $11.oo off the bar, only to find $5.oo in my bag. burnt lips and exhaustion but my heart feels good just like most people that spend to much time with me,they must feel low. i want to say i have had enough but my drive pushes me. who do i really think im foolin? two men in a bathroom stall. a rat on a wire. a sturn warning then blank. a jester shakes his finger at me. denied everything. young brite eyed writers pristine hairstylist. i must look like a monster to them with my wild xray eyes.
Reply