In Transit: Route 16 (Adelaide)

 

In Transit

Bus Route 16: Adelaide (Northbound)

Time: 8:24pm

Starting Location: Adelaide at Dundas

Song: Ohio – Neil Young

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Bus Rt.16

Aug. 8

This is it. I’m on this damn bus. I did it. I’m doing it. I can do this. this is happening. I am happening. it’s all happening. life. you know. you know. Going up Adelaide. just passed Ryan Machan sitting on his front porch. I looked up just in time. I know that house. I’ve been there before. Oxford. the bus just filled up. The bus driver didn’t understand. he gave me a bit of a hard time. he doesn’t understand. this is a good thing. nothing but good can come of this. a woman going after her dreams. documenting her life. nothing but good. that’s what this is. I’m on the bus. the guys sitting in front of me keep looking over, looking at my page. I catch them. that’s ok. look away. no. I mean don’t look away. I want you to see what is happening too. I want you to know you are witnessing art in the process. it’s all around you. even on the bus, going home at the end of your day. this is a longer bus ride I think. I can cool it on the writing. 2 hours is a long time to write, six pages is a lot of words to read. I get it. I know. I’m right here. I know. this is the first trip people are looking at me and smiling. another passenger just did it before he got off. the look back smile. hi there. hi. ha. 8:37pm. I’m pretty proud of myself for writing this legibly on the

back of a moving bus. you get it. do you understand the creative energy. the force of creation. do you understand the way the world works. respect. I have to take some pics before the sun goes down…my battery is low. this trip is very impromptu. meaning, I know I wanted to do this do all day today, but when I looked at the time, once all those day things got done, I had 10 minutes to catch the bus. a child just got on the bus. 4, maybe. he’s sitting by himself beside me…his mother is two seats up — a little independence — Ah! ha. good. I like the energy of children. they don’t give a shit. and neither do I. we’re just doing our thing. I am not a child. I am not a child. they are other than me. they are other than me. there may be many children coming into my life. many and just one. I hope so. we’re sitting at Masonville Mall. it’s been a few minutes now. 8:48pm. I wonder if the wr rhythm of my writing changes when we begin to move. oh fuck. ha. just turned the bus off. what. not sure what is happening. it’s running again. anywho. sing it Neil. Tin soldiers. this summer I hear the drum. this summer I hear the drum. please let me keep writing. let me always remember the page is where I can come to feel safe. I will never betray myself here. I will never betray myself here. here we go again. the bus is moving. the child is back with his mother. attachment is strong. this is what I’m looking at. this is what I look like. are the words confusing. If I don’t keep my head down and writing the words get away from me. the more

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you do, the easier it is to do. the bus is filling back up. Wendy’s take out. french fries. I am on this bus. I am sitting in the back. pen in hand. book out. writing. a weird sight to be sure these days. I never wanted to be like everyone else. though. I know I am not the only one doing this th exact thing, in the world. someone, many others, are out there. I hope to be around more of them someday. someplace else. on another bus, or train, or tram, in someother city, country, land. I hope so. I call that into my life right now. In Transit. take me places. so I don’t feel so stuck. when I do feel stuck. take me places. the sky is a dark electric blue now. the light is dimming. I am on this bus. I am doing it. right now. my life is happening right now. this is how I choose to spend it. I chose to get on this bus on this Tuesday night. there is no need. there is no one asking me to. I choose. and I can stay right here, in this seat, writing, until I get back off right where I got on. a changed woman. more powerful. each time I do this. everyone that heard me talking to the bus driver is off the bus, we’re back to being ignored. ha. so be it. Adelaide & Grosvenor (Southbound). What is the point of anything, if not what we do with it. I look at signs along the road. words, font, type. it gets me. I get it. weirdo. so be it. this bus ride is enjoyable. and we’re back to Dundas & Adelaide, opposite side of the street now, Southbound. Starting the latter loop on this journey. and the bus empties, and fills back

up with…only 8 of us now. this will be a quieter loop I imagine. but really, I have no idea, and I don’t care. it doesn’t affect me, only something to be perceived. I am loopy. it has been a long day. but you did good. skunk. you did good today. got some work done. creative work. went to the park. packed a picnic, put a blanket and all my books in my bag. spent the afternoon. and now I’m writing again. if I write everyday, all day, with my surroundings changing throughout, I’d be happy. I am happy. this is my work. this is what makes me happy. this is where I feel at peace. even when it’s hard. even when the words are hard (I write hard words to write sometimes). I know they can’t betray me here. I know what is just practice, what is truth, what to forget, what too is faith and desire. I know what I want. I know what I desire. I know how to get it. I know how to keep going. I know how to forgive. I know when to listen. what the sound of my own voice sounds like. I know. should I try french braids in my hair sometime? hmm. maybe. I’ll try it. try it. try it. I want to try it. all of it. every option. no. that’s not true. I only want to try the things that will keep me growing. but I want to try all of those things. *smiley face*. try all the things. I am fun. I am funny. I am a great pal. adventurer. as long as I have a good home to come home to, I can venture pretty far. that’s always been the case. we are passing highbury, on commissioners now. 9:25pm. I’m writing lots. but it feels good. it feels right. keep going. keep writing. keep riding. then go home. go home and relax.

I think we’re in Pondmills now. a subdivision. I am going to keep writing. I am going to see what comes of it. what comes out. have I written anything of substance. I doubt it. but right now I don’t care. there must be something there for it to feel this good. some truth. some truth. some truth. I am the only one on the bus now. oh wait! I didn’t see him. hey there. we are on this bus together. how do you know about my website? how do you know to come here to read these? I hope these pages take me somewhere. let me experience more of the world. more of my own land. let me go, and see, and experience. and write about it all. I am beautiful. and loving and smart and creative and sexy and imaginative and strong and courageous. I am. I’ve been through my fair share in this life. my fair share. I’m living it right now. my fair share. the ink stain on my left pinky is huge, and my hand is cramping. I write on. I’ll take a picture of my hand but I need the bus to stop moving. my phone is going to be full of bus pictures and videos soon, replacing all the pictures of paper that are usually on here. ha. paper and cards. we’re coming back along commissioners now. 9:40pm. I can do this. I hope you can do this. I hope you’re still reading. did you get here. all the way don down here. I’m here. this is where I am. loving, goofy, me. trying. writing. letting go. loving. calling. making shit happen. allow it all to happen.

every last thing. every single dream. I see you. I’m gonna let you take shape. take up space. move in. move into my life. into my house. into my head. my heart. my bed. I call you to me. you’ll find me working. loving. laughing. writing. sleeping. and dreaming. maybe tending the garden or at the stove. we’re almost done this trip. thank you bus driver. thank you LTC. thank you fellow passengers. thank you Creative Spirit. thank you Neil Young. thank you iphone. I need a picture of the bus sign. a bus stop sign. yeah we have a bit more to go. it’s dark now. I’m afraid of missing my stop and getting kicked off by the driver. it won’t happen. I know where I am. I’m right here. I’m right here. and I’m thankful for you. thank you for reading this. thank you for taking this journey with me. thank you for paying attention as I am ‘in transit’. from here to here to here. thank you. I love you. you are beautiful. you are magical. you are generous. you are courageous. you are loving. you are capable. you are free. just coming up to Horton. almost there. almost home. almost free. keep going. do what you have to do. it must be done. you can do. you are doing it right now. be this person. be the person you want to be. create the life, ask for the life you want to live. more children just entered. sitting right beside me now. ha. welcome. I’m getting off soon. my hand is tired and I am done. this was good. this was a good session. over the bridge. almost home. my goodness. I love you. you are beautiful. keep going. this is it. you’re doing it. β™₯ 9:57pm

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In Transit: Route 5 (Springbank)

In Transit

Bus: Route 5 Springbank (Westbound)

Time: 7:07 pm

Starting Point: Dundas & Richmond

Song: Rise, Eddie Vedder

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Aug. 2

the trip has begun. here I am again. on another bus. on another page. here to write. here to document the journey. here in transit. on the page. here to write something of substance. the bus is half full. the front half. I am way back here. the back corner, looking out the window…I am conscious that you are reading this. I am conscious that this is ok. I know how to write. I can write and write and write. I’m hoping eventually all the good words will come out. on this bus. in transit. at some point. this is a journey and I have begun. I have one hour on this bus. to write. he we head out to Byron and then circle back downtown. haha. some guy just walked back here only to open the window, leaving my hair now blowing in the wind, in my face, as I write, and he is back in his seat at the front of the bus. thanks? I took a video. I don’t know if I’ve ever been on this bus before…I may have cleaned houses back in here too. Berkshire Dr. Nah. a lot of those houses were in the west end though. I am here. on this bus. on this page. the song, Eddie Vedder, just began again. one song. over and over just like the wheels on the bus. the route along which we drive. over and over day after day. but I am new here. I am new and so to is the view. my hair is really

blowing now! we’re driving along springbank now. I took this bus because I wanted to look at green things out the window. parks and trees. the last trip was all concrete and buildings. I want nature. I can smell the green now, coming through that open window. thanks! Springbank park. so beautiful. I’ve come here walking many times. I want to keep my head down and my pen on the page. sometimes, like now, this scares me. what if I write something I don’t want you to know. what if the thoughts come out silly and self-absorbed. mundane, easily dismissed. I want to write something of substance. I do. I want to write something beyond myself. bigger than my tiny thoughts. the pen has the power to do that. it makes us bigger than we are in real life. on the page. i can be bigger than this bus. i can fly up and over it while we pitstop here outside the library! the library! i love the library. shout out to my library system here in London – you provide me with so much – space, computers, programs, knowledge, stories, community…I applied to work at that Waldo’s right there. They had just hired someone else. Tough loss. though loss. losing jobs. I’ve lost a few. in transit. one day I’ll find my way to right where I’m supposed to be. we’re on the move again. 7:32pm. There is only two of us left on the bus. a slow night. ok. and now I am alone. yes. I take pauses in writing. allow myself to stare out the window and dream. allow myself to take a picture or two. to capture the experience. to capture and document. I am trying. you have to begin somewhere right. well I am starting right here with what

I’ve got. the words I’ve got. the means of transportation I’ve got. the eyes I’ve got. the heart I’ve got. the hands I’ve got. the feet I’ve got. the money I’ve got.Β one day. if i keep going, things will keep growing. that’s how it works.Β g keep going. keep growing. art is no different. my hair is all over the place. two companions now, both sitting back here with me. and there is Springbank park again. I’ll take a picture. 7:43pm. I love green things. I want to live in a forest. with a pond or a lake nearby. I like waves, so maybe a lake. but definitely a forest. give me trees. dude. the car beside us is blasting thier music and it’s clashing withΒ these this lovely guitar pickin’ in my ear. there. he’s gone. much better. Back on Berkshire. I’m happy to be here. to be trying. to be going somewhere. to be doing something. with my life. with my writing. with my head and my heart and my pen in my hand. I am happy to be here. riding around for no reason and writing for no reason too. just to do it. to be it. this woman. writing and riding and knowing she’s making something of it. I’m wearing a blue skirt and a white top. my hair is freshly washed and hanging down. my eyes are blue. my shoes have stripes. the guy in front of my is wearing a red baseball hat. It’s got some kind of logo on it. I think it’s for a sports team. the expos? did you know there is a trailer park on Springbank!? I didn’t. we’re passing another field of green. 7:53pm.

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this trip is almost over. I won’t be able to fill this page. It will go undone until I write again. tomorrow. tomorrow. and always tomorrow. I want to take one last picture. we need to stop for a second. ok. that’s it. we’re almost. there. I’m gonna hop right back on another bus and…the bus driver just came to sit beside me and asked me what my project was about! HAHA! Perfect. thank you. thank you bus driver. thank you London Transit. thank you fellow passengers. thank you trees. my goodness. good night. I love you. you are beautiful.

Time: 8:00pm.

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Allyson’s Note: three videos were taken along this journey, they are not included here however, due to my WordPress account (videos cost extra). You can follow me on Instagram (@leftysmudges), I’ll get them up there, in some form, soon enough.

 

 

Short Letters

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‘I would have written you a shorter letter, but I did not have the time’ – Pascal 1656

I found this quote a long time ago. When I write someone a letter, I write pages and pages, wanting to get all the details of my life onto that page so they can feel what it’s like to be me; where I am, what I am doing, what the air feels like around me. But what if all we had was one page? What if we took the time to boil it all down to just a few words? How would we express ourselves and our relationship to this person and all their friendship means to us, in just a few words? I have decided to take the time. I have been writing Short Letters, based on this idea. Painting each line, I give myself the space to write only the most minimum of words. In preparation, I write pages and pages. Trusting that the four or five words I need will find their way out of the multitude.

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Each one has a specific person in mind. I visualize the words on the paper as I paint each line. I visualize this person reading the words as I stencil each of their letters in. I have notebooks full of these ‘short letters’, further editing my words, so only those that continually ring true make it onto the final product. One letter requires a lot of time. Time to think, time to feel, time to know.

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