bus travel blues 3/25-3/31 part one its getting cold out here in somewhere illinois slate-grey twilight sky and 30 degrees farenheit grabbing a quick smoke before I get back onto the dinosaur-guzzling steel bus 25 hours to go colours dancing against the street-night plae white, pink, and red decorated with red blue yellow strobing of the police car someone got pulled over in chicago tonight leaving Gary, Indiana and I try hard not to die laughing as people talk about the town “Gary is crazy...” “Gary is dangerous...” “Gary has the most murders...” for gary is my name too four hours until the land of clevage; Cleveland, Ohio and im ready to strangle someone 17.5 hours to go drinking shitty coffee in the ugliest, most rat-assed bus station I have ever seen, cleveland and you cant smoke did I mention I feel like a negative-universe rosa parks when travelling by bus? the only white male, sitting in back a bum already asked for change, talked about 24 hour porn theatres in the New York/New Jersey area 13 hours to go and I am tired why is the bus station described in such glowing terms? imagine the era when bus travel was glamourous 1950’s huge lobby, high ceiling pristine, virginal white linolium grand staircases leading up to spotless public lavatories fast forward dont clean the place for 30 years- the most disgusting shade of yellow, very much like urine, is the dominant colour. the men’s lav - no stalls have doors, or just cheap plywood ones that only hide your face from prying eyes im not the most demanding person where decor is concerned, but I do like some privacy when I shit. dear god this place is depressing as flavourless as this 99 cent coffee still stuck in clevage land, 12 hours to go till schenectady, proverbial bown & holy east that I grew up in I stare at the vollyball-playing girl with snap-pants... but shes with another vollyball-playing man whos rugged and handsome and im a short hairy bum in battered trench & pseudo-military garb; they’re ATHELETES, so much better than tiny little aimless writer me. I see an amish couple so I bug them a little bit about their beliefs, but im god-awful tired so I keep asking the wrong questions; as patient as they are I can tell they’re annoyed so I go out for a smoke.  another negro bum talks to me but doesnt try to panhandle. I mix with the bums and the cabbies waiting for a fare from some bus-spawned straggeler. what a life these cab drivers must have; polite but aggressive to catch some money off of weary travelers. everyone outside bums my lighter; does no one carry fire anymore? maybe the anti-smoking sentiment of late 20th century america has claimed them.  wont work on me though, I like to smoke and nothing can stop me.  I abide by the no-smoking signs though so I sit on my luggage, waiting for my bus to come, another half-hour I reckon, and I miss my cat finally I bid farewell to the madmen; the bums, the cabbies, the Amish, as I being the last leg of my temporary journey back home schenectady, ny part one as I sit on the 2nd floor porch of my future home, I realize, this is PERFECT an apartment, or should I say, a swinging pad in the residential sprawl surrounding schenectady, the decaying martyr to american industrial growth I am home beer in one hand, cigarette in the other white t-shirt barely masking the beer belly this is the place where I shall create, with flowery prose, my view of the world in early 20-year old eyes and search for a definition and term for late 20th century beat writers plans have been made and the empire already forged I just have to wait two tiny but excrutiatingly painful months before I am here forever this is heaven this is where I belong im home, father, I am home schenectady, ny part two im having second thoughts now there are forces beyond my ability to control spinning into a collision; three strong, passionate, confident personalities coming to head in this little apartment there will be a nuclear holocaust soon, and I do not want to observe it first-hand, I hate interpersonal strife, I understand and agree and empathise, yet quietly disagree with all of them, so if I get involved I will become a rapidly shifting shimmering schitzophrenic mess like the poor martian in a book by bradbury I wish I could be a savior, I wish I could help them find a common ground, I wish I could be a mediator, but my soul and mind are too weak still healing from large heart-scars how can I help others when I cant help myself? is this what I want to live with? I look to the night sky stars, but theres no answer there theres no answers anywhere for anything bus travel blues part two uneventful return trip crowded buses I keep having to sit next to big beefy guys my leg keeps getting sucked under theirs due to the weight difference overcrowded and I can feel everyones discomfort once again im stuck in cleveland met a punk-rock girl while smoking outside; one with snowboarder-baggy clothes, lightly-purple dyed short blonde hair, brown eyes, multiple facial piercings and fingers covered in multiple silver bands- shared cigarettes and words about softpacks, schools, states, bus stations & schedules.  she took off for toledo before I learned her name though. bought a ham-cheese-lettuce-tomato sandwich on a bun; with the first bite im suddenly starving.  I wolf down that $3 sandwich like a hindu thats been fasting for a year; ham never tasted so good. bus to chicago.  the driver left a girl behind at a rest stop.  he was informed right after we left but he said “too bad for her.” big alaskan guy next to me tells the left-behind-girl’s comapinion hes got four hours to blow in chiacgo and he’ll raise a big stink.  I sympathise but I really have to get to chicago cause my last bus leaves about 30 minutes after we’re scheduled to arrive, and I want to get on the bus as soon as possible so I have two seats to myself chicago to davenport, and I have my wish; two seats two hours to blow in davenport, I spend my last money on an orange crush.  my throat has declared war on me since I smoked two packs a day in schenectady soothing orange carbonation I make it back to burlington.  timothy-cat smells me; I must be like a complete stranger to her now.  the house smells different.  I slide back into routine but im massivly disoriented; that little apartment in schenectady will be in my dreams until I move