Hi!

There seems to be a delay on this train, something about the breaks.

(ENTERS — dark force entity) — — You’ve eaten almost ALL your dried mango, and we haven’t even left the station yet. You’re so predictable, you have have — virtually — no ability — to delay gratification,and your lack of discipline will be your downfall, it will be your fall from grace”

(ENTERS — Light Force — You plankton sumb, shroud of the dark side, be gone! Dark entity banished)

(ENTERS — MISS HINES ON †HE SOUTHWEST CHIEF)

“Yo! is this the train to California?!” Miss. Hines said that in the most — as if we were already friend tone. It was cool.

Miss Hines would be someone who — — besides being on drugs and mumbling to herself like Smegol from Lord of the Rings) victim, and living, breathing survior to the the web of systemic racism, economic inequality, racial profiling, close-mindedness, the retardedness of the economic elites, the fact that we forgot, cultural imperialism,marginalization, and…you know Nothing was wrong with her…but what happened to her, and why she was homeless, on the train, and why… is beyond my ranking.

I worked at a psychiatric hospital for a brief period of time. And, This one afternoon we were having a conversation about a schizophrenic patient who believed the US government was sending him “free money” in the mail, and ended up collected thousands of dollars of debt. He was talking about credit card mail offers, which, when you think about it, doesn’t seem that insane, would I be considered high to think that, it’s not that….The best thing to do with a schizophrenic patient is to just go along with the story, as if it makes complete sense, and in my experience, they tend to make many metaphorical truths, in a really abstract-mystical kind of way. …the debt collection system seems like a booming industry.

Everyone in New York hates Pigeons, well, not everyone. I remember skipping class one day to sit at the Marlton Hotel, I wrote, and am now re-writing– “Who Really Owns The City?” Us or them?Pidgeons They’re not afraid of us, do you ever wonder if they look at New Yorkers and think, ugh, disgusting! They eat well, too well, very contented with our manhattan taxed crumbs.

Theyre not afraid of us, In 1918, A pigeon named Cher Ami (dear friend), saved the lives of many french soldiers by carrying messages over enemy lines, in the heat of battle, Cher Ami was shot in the chest and the leg, but continued the flight! She was awarded The Croix de Guerre (French medal for heroic service).

This other pigeon named G.I. Joe saved thousands of lives when communication lines were down. G.I. Joe was their only hope,rt, he saved everyone and was awarded the Dickin Medal (honor the work of animals in World War II).

Miss. Hines was just kicked off the train by the train authorities, (that’s how I learned her name). She really wasn’t doing anything wrong, besides being on drugs and mumbling to herself, as far as I could make out. She only made it to Naperville. Watching her go back down that platform into the tunnely sucked, and I’m not supposed to “tell” you how I feel, but I felt really sad watching her go back. To speak on her accord, she went willingly and peacefully. Hope you’re doing well Miss Hines! Wherever you are…

Have you ever felt like you’re “living while bleeding?” Like, you’re doing everything you normally do in life, but at the same time you’ve got this blood streaming down your leg? Or maybe it’s an arm? I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed to say it, (that I just said that) — that there’s a part of me that feels weak, and annoyed with myself, because it’s been a year now, and I’m still bleeding over it. How embarrassing is that — that I would be so human as to bleed.

We just stopped in Mendota, IL, and guess who just got on? An Amish family! Michael told me this would happen. Michael is the barista that works at the Dollop coffee on Chestnut and Dewitt. When I told him I was taking the Amtrak he said, “have you ever been on the Amtrak? It sucks, and it smells like Amish people.” That was pretty unexpected coming from Michael .He seems like the kind of guy that is tolerant to everyone, but I know not to make assumptions. Ok, so the Amish people do smell, but it’s not a bad smell. I can’t put my finger on it, but the closest I can say is pine tree smell. The whole family just sat down behind me, they’re speaking a language that kind of sounds like gibberish, but you can make out PIZZA. I don’t mind the crying Amish baby, at all, im abousluly jazzed, because babies are half-faity, and half human, theyre sub-human- unadulterated love — but now that they’re sitting behind me, I can no longer let out my farts freely.

To grieve well, and to grieve is complicated — -” it’s just different”

to grieve well– it’s likened to a river flowing through a stream with zero resistance. What judgment? The flow will flow, the water is god, we are the fish, the water moves

To grieve complicated — it’s like throwing a giant tree, logs, kyacks, rocks, into the river so it’s flow is blocked up — the story, the narrative around your wound can prevent it from healing —

For me, I said, this is punishment for being unappreciative, for being materialistic, ungrounded…

I didn’t mean to pick at my scabs, I guess I couldn’t resist. I’m Sick, in the most humanly natura way amazing kind of way

I’ve always thought scars were sexy, in my personal opinion(trying to be very conscientious of prefrencencing personal opinions), but in my presumed capacity to perceive the truth — Scars can be very Sexy–

Why am I attracted to scars,is because the friends, and lovers in my life who have been through some shit, and live to tell the tale — are Interesting, learn-ed motherfuckers…and those are the people who raise the consciousness of the Light Force.

I have scars all over my knees, because…. I was a middle-school linebacker. I loved to tackle boys at recess, gotta for the ankles, I would wear those addidas sweatpants with the snaps, shorts underneath so you could rip em off in a flash–just in case there was an emergency tackle football breakout– My friend Zach called me Rachel Urlacher, because — I was a BEAST.

I have scars all over my heart because I’ve been hurt a lot — that’s something people like about me.

I went to the dermatologist for a pimple thing I had on my butt, and she froze it off — no, she over-froze whatever the pimple-like entity was, so I got this permanent scar, that looks like a huge-r pimple — very sexy.

Our grief is like a flesh wound — -the blood shed is alarmingly uncomfortable, but it’s healthy and necessary — for processing the loss.

Our scars give us character — and perceptive abilities — conversational pieces — -

I think I be have to be done, because I ran out of time. I hope you liked this, because, i made it for you, and I love you.