Note to self: steal more salt packets from food places; you're almost out of salt at this apartment!
So whatever gloom the morning held melted off; in Harriman, some kids rolled down the window and were waving like mad to the biker dude (hey, that's me!) and past Monticello, the sun actually came out (all morning it was overcast like a late evening) and I didn't actually end up getting rained on. I'm okay with the stupid things, like that I just missed the 1600 bus and so had to take the one at 1800, which got me home at 0100. I'm also ok with the fact that I left the EZPass with my motorcycle stuff, even though I ended up not using it this time. Tuesday, I'll just have to take the longer route up 17 that bypasses the toll portion of the Thruway (no, I won't carry cash). It's scenic. I took it today and I like it. I made an adventure for myself today, and I got home safe on the next-to-last-bus (not even the last bus! where's the excitement in that?). Riding the motorcycle into Ithaca; leaving it parked there—it's just getting more and more concrete. But like a dream where you can't wake up, there's that veil I can't seem to pierce. It's almost intangible and foglike, but it keeps me from feeling like I'm living my life. I keep waiting for it to start, but it's already underway.
Also, gosh do I ever feel a need to write; to create. My fingertips are bleeding ideas... but that might be the drugs.