Sort of a Protest Blog

The Bus Stop Chronicles

I narrowly made it to the bus today as I wasn’t expecting to actually have to take one today but I made it. A bit out of breath (and a bit out of shape) I made it over the bench and into the bus. I slid my ticket into the validator and walked towards the back of the bus. I headed for the back door and leaned against the barrier, a girl I knew but never really talked to sat accross from where I stood. She stared blankly toward me while I proceeded to look forward. The bus jerked forward and I held onto the support for balance. It was all going as usual until we arrived at the Skytrain station. It smelled particularly foul today as some man was smoking off in the corner. I attempted to restrain my breathing but was urged to cough after a few moments. A girl approached me from the left with her baby in its stroller. This girl couldn’t have been much older than 18. Her face was wrinkled and seemed almost burned. She wore a pink schoolgirl uniform which led me to the conclusion that she was a street worker. I couldn’t decide whether to feel bad for her or not so I resumed feeling nothing about her at all. Who am I to judge anyway?

The next bus came into the terminal and I joined the lineup. This was going to be a short but odd ride. Again, I headed for the back of the bus and stood next to the door. Two minutes or so later the bus was loaded and we moved off out of the terminal. I held onto the railing again and looked out to the right when a man suddenly laughed. I turned to see what was going on and saw a man drawing on a paper coffee cup. I didn’t mind it at first until I noticed he was laughing to himself. The woman beside radiated a feeling of awkwardness. I came to the conclusion that this man suffered from some sort of mental illness so I tried not to stare. We drove on and approached my station when he laughed again. More looked upon him while he sat there not noticing. The cup was gone now, probably resting on his lap so he was drawing on his hand. He drew what appeared to be a man’s head then licked his thumb and poorly rubbed off some of the ink on his hands. A young boy stood beside me talking to his friend about his K’nex Robot and how it would shoot spikes from its arms and cut other robots to pieces. It wasn’t too long ago that I dreamed of fighting robots and played with Legos. Alright, I still play with Lego. I pushed the handlebar on the door and it opened. I walked off the bus and headed home to write this.

So I’m going to write more of these when more interesting stuff happens.

Bloc Party Moment:

A heart of stone, a smoking gun
I can give you life, I can take it away

A heart of stone, a smoking gun
I’m working it out
Why’d you feel so underrated?
Why’d you feel so negated?

Turning away from the light
Becoming adult
Turning into my soul
I wanted to bite not destroy
To feel her underneath
Turning into my soul

She don’t think straight
She’s got such a dirty mind and it never ever stops
And you don’t taste like her and you never ever will
And we don’t read the papers, we don’t read the news
Heaven’s never enough, we will never be fooled

And if you feel a little left behind
I will see you on the other side

Cos I’m on fire
I’m on fire when you come

I’m on fire so stub me out