Start At The Beginning

I quit my two jobs in hopes of finding a writer’s true nature. I look at my roommates, the two producers of art and find myself a somewhat jealous of their talents. I envy how easy it is for them to express themselves and on some level, hate them for it. My own talents have never gave me confidence beyond the brainstorming and initial draft. This of course  makes me wonder if my choice to become a writer foolish dream of a day dreaming fool.


What more could  we as people do? Our will to act when wounded by everyday life and the state of the world that surrounds us. We are people thus we crave security.  I think thats why I haven’t been able to let go like,
them. My musical influence flat mates who created time for their art.


The adventure began on the way to the Panda NY Bus on Buford Highway. The thirty minute Marta train ride was unbearable, the waitng, the consstant expection of lost nerve or misdirected constant difficulty to say the lease. But there I was , riding the 124 Bus from Doreville Train station. My inexperence came out once I asked the bus driver about which stop leads me to the “China Bus”?


A question that caused him to look at me as if I was a child who misplaced his
mother.


“Do you mean the Panda Bus to New York?”

“Yes, that  it.” Embarresed yet incredible relieved. As  it turns out, the driver of the city bus had also previously work for Greyhound  a d traveled to New York many times. And if that wasn’t enough, he was originally from NYC.


The obvious question  I had for him was, “ What advice can you give me?”


He only gave two.


“One , Don’t look up?”

Confusing I know. But  apperently tourist who visit the NY tend to stare up at the skyscrappers. Giving away themselves as tourist and prey to the people used to the tourist frenzzy.


“Two,  Don’t eat the chinese food!”