#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.

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

Well hi there. Has it really been since 18 April that I posted? I suppose that's not too bad, it just seems longer. Time's a funny thing, isn't it? So regimented and specific, yet so relative and variable at the same...errr...time, I can't escape from saying.

Now, I do like the feeling when it swells and becomes engorged. My fan base, that is. Slowly, slowly a fan base is rising for my cartoon blog. But, wouldn't it be good to feel the same throbbing sensation for, this, my writing blog? I like a throbbing, not a sobbing.

So, to get it rising here's another post for you. Help spread the word about my blog, help me achieve a rock hard fan base. Thanks, my Loyals!

Here's the first installment of some bus trip writing:

In August of 2010 I discovered writing. The magic and the joy it gives you. Like everyone else before me I soon realised that writing is something you have to keep practicing – a lot – in order to improve. Practice. Keep practicing. Then practice some more. Everyone will tell you this.

During December 2011, it occurred to me that my almost two hours on the bus each day could be put to good use. During this time I could practice my writing. Perfect. Except for the fact the bus’s rough riding often made it very difficult to actually write. But, apparently I adjusted or compensated somehow, because I don’t remember complaining that much about it.

Anyway, what follows are five days’ worth of bus trips, each a return trip from Dee Why – where I live – to downtown Sydney – where I work. Think of it as a kind of “thoughts diary” – a diary of my thoughts each sleepy morning, and each I’m-tired or I’m-glad-the-day-is-over afternoon.

What sort of things do you think about when you travel to and from work?

Going – Tuesday, 6.57a.m., 6 December 2011

I sit down and pull out my writing kit. It’s a hardcover spiral journal, a pen and well – my mind. As I look around and peer through my thick sleepy haze, I see a lot of these commuters have got their silent heads and murky eyes fixated on some kind of electronic gadget. Everyone’s immersed in their own world, segregated from the person they’re merely inches, even less, away from. We’re all here together, yet everyone is alone and separate. I feel I go unnoticed. Or do I go unnoticed?

They’re all so ordered, perched in their seats. Some are slumped but they still appear organised, it’s the layout of the seats on both counts. Who designed these seats, anyway? Because they’re too small – the space is cramped. All the different shoes – robust boots, dirty sneakers and clean sneakers, sexy glossy high-heels, the almost-always-the-same men’s black dress shoes – the various  colours and styles of pants and dresses and shirts and jackets, somehow, side by side, they appear unattractive. Yet, if you examine these gadget-gazing monsters individually, the shoes, outfits and clothing can make sense, are pleasing even.

A girl sitting right next to me just slid her jacket off, as if lined with lube – better than Houdini could’ve done in such a confined space I must say.

I know what some of you are thinking sitting in your bus seat, you’re looking so composed and in control, yet you have your insecurities and worries.

My pen’s been busy and now you all start scattering off the bus as it reaches its final stops. Scamper to your demoralising desks. I have to rush to mine, too, I caught one of those damn buses that terminates further out from downtown than I wanted – it was an L180. Mental post-it note for the inside of my head: Don’t get on the L180 again.