space and time are slowly loosing meaning. more and more. on a bus. its friday 15:34 and already getting dark. to scotland. news papers and empty coffee cups on the seat next to me, empty the only one on the bus. the rest stop in newcastle england is no different from a reststop in western pa. the untrained reststop observing eye could mistake them at a glance and frankly this upsets me. what did i expect? a reststop with not fuel, toilets, food, parking and coffee, but piles of shale, knights, old women serving tea and robin hood? five hours on a bus leaving from allentown and, if the traffic was right, you would be very lucky to hit ohio. we will cross half of the UK. its raining. i forgot my umbrella. a store owned by wal-mart, i chuckle, no one is safe. reading the paper. edinburgh? 14 C. i think i can hear four different languages being spoken in my immediate vicinity. even in the dark, or perhaps due to the dark, i envision the
city built upon the landscape and for centuries continuing to be built upon itself. filling every space, inhibiting all movement, growing up and out in blocks of stone an organism a bacteria feeding on itself on the landscape on the rock faces molded on mans terms alive and constraining built to contain the flow down streets and up stairs continuing. 18:47 the hostel! crammed into the kitchen and waiting. an hour later still in a que waiting for a room 21:00 aleks and i managed to be the last two to get a room, but we scramble out for a look at the city, edinburgh. the search for the chinese resteraunt pauline swears she saw on the way in. two hours later we settle for a meat pie and chips. but the hunger for chinese will threaten us again soon...free breakfast in the hostel botanical gardens sunshine downpour sunshine rain cloudy weather oh coffee the museum. the descent to streets below. an entire street of used book stores i think i've died and gone to heaven we leave one and enter another next door, books piled on books on shelves on shelves on books and a dog and i purchase a copy of marx's communist manifesto and the women behind the desk, to my enjoyment, begins to get nostalgic. oh when i bought this book i had to get it from this shady guy on the street and you know it was illegal, i'm spanish, and to this day i keep a flower cover on it because my father nearly had a heart attack when he saw it, oh read it when you're young. 16:33 i can't stand to see people running
to catch the bus. man was not made, man has not evolved, to be frantically running desperatly pleaing with short quick steps bag hung over the shoulder one hand outstretched as if to grab the bus and slow it down if he could just get near it the other hand stiff at his side begging the city bus gods to just this one day relieve his anxiety and let him get to the bus in time fear and foolishness plastered to his face. i'd run for the bus too. but17:52 Chinese Resteraunt. aleks and i climb the stairs and before i gain control we are wisked into the restaurant seated by two waiters and staring around in disbelief at the rose on our table the white linen table clothes and the nearly empty room. would we like a bottle of wine? the sign downstairs said chinese takeout. a giant mound of chicken chow mein is placed before me and one of our waitresses, yes there were many, dishes out rice for aleks. im a little uncomfortable. i want a cheap dirty and quick chinese buffet in huntingdon and i have a big cloth white napkin in my lap, will this be expensive whats going on. the waiters patrol like guards pacing back and forth across the room parading for their meager
crowd of customers if the dish is empty it is taken away before i know i ever ate. so the night continues on and we walk and follow a ghost tour until told we didn't pay and walk and the hostel bar and pool and numerous games of hangman. i get the top bunk. being the last two in line we're in a room with the organizers and the couple i jokingly imagined were on their honeymoon, it turns out they actually are married. but they all sleep early and soundly and so do aleks and i. the hostel hallway smells like the big building at camp men-o-lan. so another breakfast of toast in the hostel and we visit the art gallery and buy coffee and i rant about how frustrated i am that i can't get a decent cup of cheap coffee. i've spent more money on coffee than i like to think about. oh to think we took those long mornings of continuous coffee at the coop-d for granted. but more walking and talking about television friends sex and the city animaniacs victorian literature etc. but back
on the bus and returning to leeds i've been reading big sur by kerouac for two and a half hours straight and when i attempt to bring the oatmeal raisin cookie to my mouth half of the crumbly goodness plummets towards the center of the earth so in a manic scramble i stumble and reach out and self consciously bring the nearly departed
cookie to my mouth suddenly in a moment of clarity or confusion realizing i'm on a bus in england and i'm almost suprised by the fact that i've just discovered. back in newcastle at a rest stop 40 international students congregate outside the bus getting ready to board. when the driver climbs in the other side and sits down we all see him in the window and sigh as if enlightened and chuckle as if embarrasssed all at once together because the door is on the other side of this crazy english bus we've all lined up outside.
city built upon the landscape and for centuries continuing to be built upon itself. filling every space, inhibiting all movement, growing up and out in blocks of stone an organism a bacteria feeding on itself on the landscape on the rock faces molded on mans terms alive and constraining built to contain the flow down streets and up stairs continuing. 18:47 the hostel! crammed into the kitchen and waiting. an hour later still in a que waiting for a room 21:00 aleks and i managed to be the last two to get a room, but we scramble out for a look at the city, edinburgh. the search for the chinese resteraunt pauline swears she saw on the way in. two hours later we settle for a meat pie and chips. but the hunger for chinese will threaten us again soon...free breakfast in the hostel botanical gardens sunshine downpour sunshine rain cloudy weather oh coffee the museum. the descent to streets below. an entire street of used book stores i think i've died and gone to heaven we leave one and enter another next door, books piled on books on shelves on shelves on books and a dog and i purchase a copy of marx's communist manifesto and the women behind the desk, to my enjoyment, begins to get nostalgic. oh when i bought this book i had to get it from this shady guy on the street and you know it was illegal, i'm spanish, and to this day i keep a flower cover on it because my father nearly had a heart attack when he saw it, oh read it when you're young. 16:33 i can't stand to see people running 
to catch the bus. man was not made, man has not evolved, to be frantically running desperatly pleaing with short quick steps bag hung over the shoulder one hand outstretched as if to grab the bus and slow it down if he could just get near it the other hand stiff at his side begging the city bus gods to just this one day relieve his anxiety and let him get to the bus in time fear and foolishness plastered to his face. i'd run for the bus too. but17:52 Chinese Resteraunt. aleks and i climb the stairs and before i gain control we are wisked into the restaurant seated by two waiters and staring around in disbelief at the rose on our table the white linen table clothes and the nearly empty room. would we like a bottle of wine? the sign downstairs said chinese takeout. a giant mound of chicken chow mein is placed before me and one of our waitresses, yes there were many, dishes out rice for aleks. im a little uncomfortable. i want a cheap dirty and quick chinese buffet in huntingdon and i have a big cloth white napkin in my lap, will this be expensive whats going on. the waiters patrol like guards pacing back and forth across the room parading for their meager 
crowd of customers if the dish is empty it is taken away before i know i ever ate. so the night continues on and we walk and follow a ghost tour until told we didn't pay and walk and the hostel bar and pool and numerous games of hangman. i get the top bunk. being the last two in line we're in a room with the organizers and the couple i jokingly imagined were on their honeymoon, it turns out they actually are married. but they all sleep early and soundly and so do aleks and i. the hostel hallway smells like the big building at camp men-o-lan. so another breakfast of toast in the hostel and we visit the art gallery and buy coffee and i rant about how frustrated i am that i can't get a decent cup of cheap coffee. i've spent more money on coffee than i like to think about. oh to think we took those long mornings of continuous coffee at the coop-d for granted. but more walking and talking about television friends sex and the city animaniacs victorian literature etc. but back 
on the bus and returning to leeds i've been reading big sur by kerouac for two and a half hours straight and when i attempt to bring the oatmeal raisin cookie to my mouth half of the crumbly goodness plummets towards the center of the earth so in a manic scramble i stumble and reach out and self consciously bring the nearly departed 
cookie to my mouth suddenly in a moment of clarity or confusion realizing i'm on a bus in england and i'm almost suprised by the fact that i've just discovered. back in newcastle at a rest stop 40 international students congregate outside the bus getting ready to board. when the driver climbs in the other side and sits down we all see him in the window and sigh as if enlightened and chuckle as if embarrasssed all at once together because the door is on the other side of this crazy english bus we've all lined up outside.
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