well, this sure was productive day

2003-01-17, 3:37 p.m.

who is to say that there is no repetition in living; as i saw it, i remember those things from years ago, solely because they were relived over and over. driving, i see the gas station, and i have to wonder if anyone there is stopping to fill up before heading east, with a yawn and sleep ridden eyes.

the woman who stands next to the bus, she isnt quite ready to leave, so she stares at me through her thick rimmed glasses, holding a magazine in her left hand. the blue jacket she wears, i know ive seen it, and i know she isnt from here; she feels at home with all the trademark Applebee's and Chevy's with white plaster walls and neon signs. maybe i feel more at home, and maybe she was never really there, just that i distract myself from the message in this song. because its so true what he is saying, and its all on me, whether i can sort through the rhythm and prose, to find what i should do with a translucent invitation to better myself.