ESE on the Road, 5

There is something about a bus ride that makes you introspective,

I don't mean the school or commuter kind.  I'm talking about the long haul kind.  I'm on one now and I'm basically a man alone with his thoughts.

In the dark, impenetrable void.  Movin' and groovin' with Jean Paul Sartre.

Right now I feel lower than a Brazilian soccer fan (2014 World Cup reference in case anyone reads this years from now.  Yeah, like THAT'S gonna happen.)  I wonder if this ever happened to Hunter on the road or if all the booze and mescaline kept it at bay?

Even without the drugs there's a delirium to this ride.  Something about being in transit at ground level rather than being above it.  You just keep riding and the scenery just rolls at you.  It's hallucinogenic.  I'm free of it. Unattached to it. Makes you feel like you could become anyone, even for just a short amount of time.

Oh what perspicacity I inflict on you fuckers.

I would hope whoever I'd become would have better social skills.  Many times I've posted here about how my introversion makes interacting with people tedious and exhausting.  In my head I'm as suave as Tony Stark.  In real life I come off more like Kenny from South Park.  While I still abhor chit chat, I really do reach a tipping point.  Stone crumbles and I feel alone.  Utterly alone.  Watching everyone else socialize effortlessly is like being in a world where everyone has a superpower except you.  Thus, rendering you something of a freak, an outsider.  Everyone flies and bench presses cars while you're trying to pass off your fount of trivia as your own mutant ability.  Who needs that?

In case you haven't noticed, the Zoloft just hasn't kicked in today.

Off topic but somewhat related, I wonder what goes on in the minds of those children as they travel, walking  (yes, walking) all the way through Mexico to risk illegal immigration to the United States.  What kinds of precarious, "streets of gold" hopes have they been filled with?  Only to be greeted by scalding epithets and protests?  The weight of this human tragedy is enough but the fact that it might rejuvenate Rick Perry's political career is unconscionable.    I'm dreading and bracing myself for the right wing panegyrics.

This just in: the bus has broken down somewhere in Maryland. Awesome.  More time to sit and stare into the void.  Who can I sue for this?  For both the bus and the depression?  If Boehner is suing Obama then I figure there's got to be dubious legal action I can get in on too.

Maybe I'll read my science fiction book for a while.  Maybe I'll get a latte at the next stop.

Or maybe I'll just say fuck it all.

Depression sucks, people.  It really really sucks.  So does feeling alone.  In a way though, I feel like being honest about it in this open forum helps me to confront it.  Sadly it's at the cost of you the reader, in which case I apologize.  Unless you suffer from this insidious beast as well, then misery loves company.

Oh yeah, more pics from DC.  Check this out:

An Anonymous/WikiLeaks bus...or "Government Transparency Task Force" as the side of the RV proclaimed.  It was parked by the National Mall.  Their signage proclaimed "9/11 was an inside job" and "No more Bushes, no more Clintons."  I wanted to hang out with them, try spouting beat poetry from bullhorns and see what happens with the passers by.

This is an actual batarang from Dark Knight.

Warhol.

Beatles.

Sketching for the classic Bugs Bunny cartoon, "What's Opera, Doc?"  Awesome.  "Kill da wabbit, kill da wabbit..."

If I ever get a tattoo, I think it might be this drawing by Franz Kafka, a favorite author of mine as you know.