SPEEL CHECK AND GRAMMAR CHECK IS "ON"
and the last one was part 1
and some albums that are riddled away in another era that you don't know or refuse to know
the thoughtlessness of a holiday in the year
and the non-existent warmth
the bus came around 5pm, well, it came awhile back actually, sometime before part 1 I guess. Then there was this big long period of thumbing around paper work and sortin' an' crunchin' numbers. I don't know. so i got on.
so here we go, or i go, because you just wont EVER get it now, considering your vantage.
so there were times when there was worry and often more, (not "confusion" for lack of better ____) and maybe the bus even went back in time for a bit. how delightful, yet for someone of your vantage, once again, have NO idea. It's not an idea, and there was no yanking of a jingle-jangle involved, pure automatic door. Shit, I didn't even have to walk before it, I opened for the door.
so then there was a second of misguidance and off with the right and off with the left.
LO AND BEHOLD we have lift off with first: a fine selecion (speel check is "ON", there is an accent for god's sake) from 1968, on March 17 to be exact, and that's the anniversary of a fine Penn's Peak-er if I may say so.
I think my left (or right if it ever mattered at this point-and I mean EVER) is still lost back there in '68 which would 'splain why the "i ran out of ()<-clone RIGHT OR LEFT" is always in search of the other.
Anyway, back to the ship of fools, er I mean bus:
so then we have ourselves contemplating at this particular point in time,
"where and when and why and who and HOPEFULLY NOT a who.... oohohoho boy"
and all during this time you can imagine
"well well well, he can't be saying all of this out LOUD, what'll the NEIGHBORS think?"
but I almost was... almost... but along we roll.... and eventually I tried looking out another window of the bus for a bit and that didnt work out so I metaphorically whipt my head around faster than Miles. So there, i continued suit.
>maybe minutes passing<
In lieu of experimentation, strike a match and that quick another one from '68, but this one is 2 months, 4 days, and 5 minutes down the street. Oh so groovy, yet there was too much analysis.
>maybe minutes passing<
LO AND BEHOLD! (there can be 2! i know, right?!) we have ourselves yet ANOTHER fine selection! (this one is not accented because it's a BIT newer)
what a fine year and this really proves it. what's that? what day? well well well... a bit of reach-search tips my head towards October 21st, which was coincidentally, ALSO a Saturday.
There was a moment of "you stupid disrespectful American" but not in the way you would ever think. We we're being disrespectful and we needed that shove of different air. It's not so bad. It's actually not bad at all, really. It feels kind of good. I can really get off subject here on this, and I REALLY don't want to get off subject, but you kind of have to really understand this. You have to be open to completely understand, and it's even harder to keep composure; to restrain yrself from yelling like all the other "Americans" surrounding you. I guess this is really what kind of inspired this whole "monologue" if-i-ever-saw-one, but I was sitting there trying to understand their way and it was hard to keep in mind that "their" was still not them, but rather silhouettes of "them". A torch or 11 was passed along for sure, maybe a few got burned, I don't know, it doesn't really matter.
So into this one we go after getting it, and there were moments within moments of inter-inner-ness and collaboration between old and new alike. Even now, i'm living about a half hour, give or take, ahead of it. Well-we'll, put it this way:
If you take this whole bus ride thing, and bracket it, like your contempt, you can combine it with anything you gather and it becomes part of the genetics; think simple algebra; 2(#) and why stop there? so in businessman terms: at that point, you can go back decades and decades and find me, but this is now, and you'll not be so lucky.
If I ever ever found one torch of light, it was the headlights that came in the form of another "LOCOmotive" coming right at me. All I remember was the trading of paint and sparks. On the side, It read, "Sugaree". There was a vortex, and it was getting ripped in all different directions. Intricate webs of globby paint and dripping branches. The first ever [documented] Calm Madness. Oh, So much paint was at stake, quite beautiful, and Here I Was with my cup in hand gathering it all up....