Seems so dumb, but it suited the tiny way I felt this day. Thought I was getting some good stuff. I wanted to do another MTA bus time capsule, this time the Q88 from Queens Place to Queens Village. I had a pitiful connection between myself and a woman I thought I could have fallen in love with. She rode the Q88. She rode the bus! It’s been hard to find a woman who is not allergic to riding the bus. I remember feeling (pitifully) that how could I not fall for a woman who knows how to ride the fucking bus? We compared notes about our Q88 experiences. A highlight of the Q88 was its WiFi. We both agreed, the WiFi on that bus was pitiful. But the USB chargers were cool. This conversation had my mind swirling with anticipation of our mutual attraction blossoming into Bus Night, or Bus Dates. Let’s ride the S78! I suggested, believing in the moment that it was the longest bus route in the 5 boroughs. I may be misremembering the route number now but in the moment I knew the longest route in NYC and I wanted to ride that bitch with this woman whose ability and even willingness to ride the fucking bus spiraled in my mind into a sign of inevitability, of destiny. WE WERE GOING TO RIDE THE BUS TOGETHER FOR EVER AND EVER, EVERY BUS ROUTE, EVERY STOP, EVERY BOROUGH, ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART.

She entered my mind today, briefly, on account of that feeble commonality we shared. I had no fantasies today about sharing this ride with her. She is a distant dalliance now. I hopped onto the Q88 to document the ride on video, and for the duration of the journey from Queens Place to Queens Village I thought that is exactly what I was doing. But the rookie mistake triumphed. The camera I use used to create a new file after 30 minutes. Now it just stops recording video after 30 minutes. I did not know this. So I got 30 minutes, not the hour or so I thought. And it’s annoying, because I think these time capsules have meaning. I was getting Queens in all its maladroit randomness. Huge houses, mansions even, abutting 2-story dumps that look more comfortable and liveable than all the luxury accoutrements one could summon. 

Long story short, I fucked it up. Stupid mistake but it’s not like anything was on the line. I know how to waste. I am waste. Waste is the title of my biography. I waste seed, I waste time, I waste energy, I waste money, food, water, electricity,