paying attention and bold decisions

The Muse Letter No. 187

I’m on the bus to London, it’s a 9 hour ride. The last time I was on this bus my train had been cancelled (strike/fire/storm? or some other reason, I don’t remember, there’s always something with the trains) but the buses always go. They’re always there like the parent who will pick you up at 3AM when you’re stranded/drunk/broke and your phone is about to die in the middle of nowhere when you’re 16 or 21 or 35 and you didn’t realise that the train doesn’t stop in your town because nobody thought to inform you that there is a huge construction site so all trains are going on an alternative route anyway: buses are reliable.

The last time I was on this bus, I texted a guy I had a mild crush on which over the course of 9 hours and I guess a certain ennui and lust for spectacle developed into a bold move: I asked him out.

I like who I am on a bus.

I like to eat all my snacks in the first two hours.

I like to stare out of the window and ignore the two books I packed.

I like to create elabor…