#6 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

Returning – Thursday, 4.42p.m., 8 December 2011

There are sharks in there. Bull sharks. They’re particularly aggressive them bulls. We’re travelling over the Harbour Bridge and the gently rippled water is gazing at me with its watery, blue eyes. We’re floating over this salty expanse and it wraps me up like a comforting blanket, memories of good times at the water, any water – the beach. I bet there are some sharks on this bus as well nice people. There are always sharks around – they can be difficult to spot, other times you clearly see their big, white, sharp teeth, their trademark fins and menacing intentions.

Has the bus become my second office? Although only three days so far, it seems like I’ve been writing for a lot more. So enjoyable and sure beats being a cardboard-like traveller.

I hope the guy to my left is extremely important or very well paid because he’s working on this bus like he’s in his office. Laptop’s open and on. Already three mobile phone calls. The first one was, “Thanks, Alex, can you shore up a time for that meeting?” Shore up. There’s an expression new to me for this context. Sounds like bullshit office talk.

The next call he thanked someone for their “great efforts”, and the last one included, “Okay, can you keep me up to date and let’s see if we can finish it by Friday?” I guess he’s saying all the right things.

He’s been very busy typing and just now checked his mobile phone for messages. Has God left a message for me?

Christ. Now it’s Dave. “Hi Dave” he answers – and without me even noticing, somehow he disappeared the laptop and the iPad is now nestled between his pin-stripe-trouser-covered legs. Modern technology is so wonderful and portable.

It’s also a fucking pain in the arse. Put all your toys away and be quiet.

Is hypocrisy sneaking in here? I did say the bus seems to have become my second office. I’m only putting my jottings to journal – can’t see how that would annoy anyone. Would it?

“Psst. Look at that guy over there scratching away in his lame, little journal. Why doesn’t he join the 21st century and get himself an iPad or something”

We’ve stopped at Warringah Mall. People file into the bus like a stream of dedicated ants on a mission. It does’t seem to end. Standing room only now.

Mickey Mouse just leaped out at me from an Asian lady’s white T-shirt. Mickey’s got a huge smile and is looking confident, he has a politely purposive appearance. I’d love even 50 cents for every time I’ve seen Mickey Mouse somewhere.

#5 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

Going – Thursday, 7.07a.m., 8 December 2011

It all feels pretty ordinary at 7.07a.m. But my head is clearer, because I had more sleep than the night before. And only one more sleep until my weekend starts. As we all know, the weekend actually starts on or towards the close of Friday in anticipation and celebration of two days off.

It’s still raining, but I’m not hungry like on the journey home yesterday. Yet, hunger for me is never far around the corner. It’s a short corner to turn before I arrive at Hunger Place.

The bus is very peaceful this morning, and as I now, this very moment, lean forwards to scratch my back, I read a slogan on a building for a mattress retailer: “Where Dreams Begin”. Quite apt, I think. Peace and dreams combine very nicely.

Is Thursday the magic day? Will Thursdays always be peaceful and begin with dreams? Will the media never report any bad events on Thursdays?

Even the bus itself seems dreamy-peaceful this morning at 7.22a.m., 15 minutes after I joined it. It opened its generous mouth and I stepped into its bowels. To carry all types of people, like those angry, aggressive or annoying ones, the bus has to have a cast iron stomach. And it does. They do. The bus has a better constitution than me.

Can I learn something from the bus? – that I should fortify my own constitution? Is it a state government owned metaphor on wheels I should pay attention to? A metaphor for how I could become a more tolerant and socially adept person?

This bus is nice ‘n’ warm. I draw this warmth inside of me.

How does the bus driver get on with the bus? Does he treat her well? Do they communicate or have an unspoken rapport? In the end, the bus has the upper hand, because if she won’t go, nobody goes, anywhere.

And if she has to be towed away, she’ll just have the day off and relax while she’s mechanically attended to. She’ll enjoy the tow because for once it’s a ride for her.

She just opened her cavernous mouth open for some stragglers. A lot of stragglers. That was good of her. But, like me, she just wants to get downtown so the day can end. We both want the weekend to come and that can’t happen until today and most of tomorrow passes. I’m assuming she has the weekend off. I get the impression she does as she’s too warm and relaxed.

It’s still peaceful and the Harbour Bridge is seconds away from feeling this girl’s supple, rubber tyres.

#2 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

Returning - Tuesday, 4.41p.m., 6 December 2011 

About ten minutes into the journey along the route: “Do you stop at Dee Why?” asked a man to the bus driver.

“Yeah”, but only when I get there” I said in my head.

“Yes” our driver responded.

I guess you get tired of having to answer that question all the time.

It’s the same as this morning for the most part. Their silent heads and eyes fixated on the latest gadgets. Although, I see three people reading crumpled newspapers. Well, two and a half people – one guy with a big nose and grey, spiky hair keeps nodding off. Good effort though for trying to read when you’re so tired.  

There’s also a hard, lizard-looking blonde lady with a Russian accent, who – on our slow and jolting departure – launched into a frown-driven, and loud conversation.  She seems the type of person who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else, or what people think of her – exactly the kind of attitude that might have allowed me to be more successful in my own life. I’m sure she’s cold-blooded. Unfortunately, mine is free flowing and quite warm.

They really aren’t a very bright looking lot of travellers. I would’ve expected a happier bunch, I mean they’ve all finished work and are going home right now. You never know, though, do you? Should I interview each person to see what’s going on? To find out what their story is? Sometimes I wish I could.

By the way, the guy with the big nose and grey, spiky hair – the nodder – he’s got thinner lips than John Major. He makes John look like he’s had lip enhancement work done. You know, like those ageing soapie stars that all of a sudden one day have much fuller looking lips.

Funny that I’ve just noticed a teenager wearing a “Giants” baseball cap. It contrasts with three midget looking guys – dressed in Santa outfits – who two minutes ago boarded this rolling brick to a destination unknown to me. Should I interview them?

What was my destination today – Dee Why bus stop, or the above irony? Well, it’s my choice because we all create our own reality.

It’s just good to be home.