The trip was typical Greyhound. Nothing exciting. The bus now takes the route through
The first thing I noticed about being back in
Leaving the bus station, I was in for one of the strangest moments I have ever experienced. Laina moved into
Friday night was spent downloading my pictures and trying to figure out why my computer refused to start. We tried to get reacquainted ourselves while at the same time attempting to figure out why, again, I felt so disconnected and uncomfortable in what was supposedly my own home. I was not successful.
The rest of the weekend was the same. I left the house Saturday to replace the computer's power supply and had an intensely bitter taste in my mouth at sight and even smell of
It seems pointless to spend more time on the weekend because that is pretty much it. Laina asked if I wanted to do something, anything, but I essentially refused to leave the house not wanting to expose myself to that toxic dump of pretentiousness. It got to the point Saturday night where I began packing the backpack again pissed off that I'd PAID to return HERE, when I could be in
The positive aspect of the first part of the trip home was the continued theme: calm combined with rare but intense moments of irritation. Plus, Laina and I were getting along better than we had in a long time simply because I was less generally irritated. My irritation had always tended to be all-encompassing. Now it seems to have a target. That made life at home much more tranquil.
It appears, also, that the time we have spent apart doing our own things has helped her too. She seems a lot more sure of herself and a bit more comfortable in her own skin. I do not think that the calmness trait changes were all one sided!
I finally began slowly updating the journal on Monday, although I still refused to exit the house! That came Tuesday when I went to the library to upload some stuff, and to get some cigs.
Right Scott? Right Bob? There’s a special place in Hell for the likes of you and I’d rather, and will, live under a bridge with honorable, urine-soaked castaways than breathe the sweet smelling cyanide of your deceit, ideological and ecological for-profit exploitation, and selling of the cultural fraud branded as “The American Dream”. Does that come with a side order of Freedom Fries?