Today was as creatively productive as days get for me. After Andrea left I made breakfast and spent the day reading, writing and working on music. The song I've been working on is ready for bass and vocals. Recording a song was the only goal I set for myself this summer and it looks like I'll accomplish it just in time.

Andrea came over last night for dinner and we watched the end of Batman Begins, which construction work at Riverside had kept us from finishing. She crashed before midnight and I tried, but ended up on the couch for a couple of hours reading. Andrea and I are on different sleep schedules right now because she's been working quite a bit. I'm back to a routine where I'm awake until 2 or 3 before I can fall asleep, and then I'm out of bed at around 11. I'm looking forward to having work back in my life, because I'm apparently happiest when I'm going to bed at sunrise on a somewhat regular basis.

I devoured the rest of Fifth Business today. It may be the best book I've read so far this year. Davies' narrative structuring and language are amazing, and he has such a wonderful flair for writing passionate dialogue. There are a few moments in the text where characters talk at length and it never once gets dull. I feel richer for having read it.

I wrote a little over a thousand words today. Every time I sit down to write I'm producing something new and different from the last time. I'm trying to get at a story. I know it's there somewhere, I just have to keep digging.

Wicked was, well, wicked. It took a few liberties with Maguire's book - Boq is NOT the Tin Woodman, Fiyero is NOT the Scarecrow, Elphaba does NOT survive and escape the Emerald City with the Scarecrow, who is actually made the ruler of Oz after the Wizard leaves. But that's my inner geek talking. Visually it was astounding, and there were moments that took me back to the wonder I experienced when I first gained an interest in the books.

Speaking of Oz, I went to the In/Words open mic last night for the first time in over a year and read from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. It was very nice to hang out with old friends and talk about writing. I told Peter I'd like to help out with the magazine this year in some way, shape or form, but then I sent him a message telling him I wasn't sure it would be a good idea. I have a lot of energy to do something new, something that's going to help me grow as a writer. I think In/Words is behind me at this point, though it certainly provides a nostalgia factor.

I picked up my home theater system at Canada Post yesterday and hooked it up. I put on The Matrix and gauged the surround sound. Really incredible. I've ordered a new 42" TV and it's scheduled to arrive next week. It's going to change the way I watch movies. My living room is going to be bitchin'.

I started reading Fifth Business by Robertson Davies, a book that has eluded my attention despite it being a staple in high school English classrooms. I'd read The Manticore before, but I'd forgotten how talented Davies was.

I sure drank last night. A hangover's kept me in bed all day. I definitely won't be here forever, because Andrea and I are going to see Wicked tonight, and I've been looking forward to it for two months:


Yes!

A group of us celebrated Simon's birthday (and Andrea's A- in her Poli-Sci course, preeemptively) at the Royal Oak. I got a little carried away with shot orders - Irish Car Bombs, Liquid Cocaines, Blowjobs, plus a couple of mini-pitchers of Rickards Red. A lighthearted time was had, though somewhere between the time I stumbled into Andrea's bedroom and the time I woke up a bulldozer had its way with my body.

The back exercises seem to be making my sciatica worse, so I'm going to cool it for awhile. I have to head over to Sears to pick up the blinds for my living room. I wish someone would carry me.

Lua and I are chilling out on Andrea's bed, enjoying the silence of an empty apartment. I used the laundry facilities in my building for the first time today and aside from a small hesitancy on behalf of the washing machine to work properly, my clothes are clean. I decided to retire three shirts from my rotation. While waiting for my clothes to dry, I finished reading The Sound and the Fury. Now I'm going to look up some criticisms to find out exactly what the hell it's about. My guess is that it's sort of a cross between plot elements found in A Streetcar Named Desire and Chinatown set against the Gothic south that only Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor can emulate.

I had dinner with Rachael at the diner last night and we talked for a couple of hours, though we were both kind of tired. I tried explaining to her how I've felt about writing so far this year and I got bored of listening to myself. I really don't make a whole lot of sense. Better I should just write and keep my opinions about it to myself until they're actually worth a damn.

Rachael asked me how I was doing, and I told her I was happy. And I am, to tell the truth. Everything feels nice at the moment. No complaints, no real worries. I used to worry that I was the kind of thinker who would never appreciate happiness if he found it, but I've always been too willing to criticize myself for feeling as though I'm not getting a fair shake. The shake is fair. Ottawa is becoming a new sort of home, one that doesn't stand for the negative things it used to stand for. I'm no longer driving myself as crazy as I used to, or at least I'm being crazy about better things.

There has been a copy of The Tommyknockers by Stephen King sitting at the top of the lobby steps for the last week. Last night I picked it up and brought it inside and started reading it. I've only read one Stephen King book before, and it was under his Richard Bachman pseudonym, so why not?

I fired up my old desktop computer yesterday after not having turned it on for about a year to see if I could salvage anything from it - journals, songs, a drawing of the tattoo I want. It's pretty much a lost cause, and I'm willing to accept it after finding a CD I'd burned that contained the journals I wanted to keep, stuff from a website I had running from July 2000 until January 2002, which covered my last days in Oshawa and my first days in Ottawa. I'm so glad I have them back. I think there's a month's worth of entries missing, but from what I remember I had lost those some time before my computer blew up.

Moving is always a liberating experience, moving into your own place even more so. There's a unique pleasure that comes along with putting everything exactly where you want it, clearing floor space bit by bit as the things you take out of boxes find a home. I had been thinking about investigating that computer for over a year, one of those "I'll get around to it after the move" things. Now I have, and now I can abandon the thought and move on. I'm not simply clearing out one space and setting up in the next; I'm clearing out my mind of useless junk that's been hanging out for too long and opening it for something new.

I started reading Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury and forgot how hard he is to understand. I haven't read a Faulkner novel since first year University. He's a modernist who loves to write in the moment, and clarity only comes when one lets the words relate with each other. He writes about people and events without writing about them directly, only offering revelations by inference, indicating trauma and tragedy through the repetition of seemingly insignificant details. It's haunting stuff. Joe recommended I check Faulkner out in order to get a better idea of how to write multiple perspectives, and I'm beginning to see what he means. I sat down a couple days ago and wrote 1200 words on an exercise from Writing Fiction: write about an extraordinary event by describing it in great detail. Another beginning to a story I at least now have the opportunity to finish.

Lots to do today.

This marks the 100th post on 2AM Traffic. Milestones!

I went to Sofa World and the salesman Mike sold me a couch for $452 after delivery, about exactly what I wanted to spend. It's green and should snuggle nicely into the space that remains in my living room. Should be here in under two weeks. I bought a drill, put up the blinds in my bedroom and put my kitchen table together. With a tablecloth on it, it should serve as a half decent spot to write. And eat occasionally, maybe. Everything's coming together. The bigger stuff is pretty much all taken care of.

Yesterday the high school mates and I got together to take Connolley out for the day before he gets married in a couple of weeks. We went mini golfing, had lunch at Gracie O'Malley's, went to Rideau Carleton Raceway to gamble, and then back to Connolley's for barbecue and Wii. It was a pretty fun time. I won a little over 60 bucks at slots and blackjack. Being the old men that we are, everyone was kind of tired around 1 AM when I left. But that's what 13 hours of partying will do.

I still like spending time with the lads, but we all seem to be settling into the types of people we'll be for the rest of our lives. Good news in some cases, not so great in others. I don't really even know if I can say that I'll stay the same person for the rest of my life. Obviously I'll change a lot. Experience will do that to you, and I've got a pretty open mind. But there are certain folks that anyone knows that will always be the way they are. I know some people who are like that, for better or worse, and it becomes more and more apparent the longer I know them.

Andrea and I went to the Pride parade this afternoon, which ran along Wellington and down Elgin for a bit to City Hall. I'd never been before. It was fun, of course. Lots of happy faces, people reveling in the freedom to be themselves. It must be a great feeling to be able to celebrate something that a lot of people try to make you ashamed of on a daily basis.

My blinds came in yesterday. Sometimes I forget that people can see into my house from the street. Not that I care much personally, but I`m worried more about people noticing anything worth stealing.

I slept in my new bed last night. My alarm clock went off this morning and I banged my head against the wall on two occasions trying to turn it off. I have to get used to the room`s geography. My room`s looking a bit cleaner after putting away boxes of books. I also have a lot of random bits and pieces I`ve collected over the years to remind me of experiences. The stuff piles up after awhile.

Today I will hopefully be buying a couch.

Thanks to the seemingly tireless efforts of my dad, and the willingness of Mike, Matt and Carly to lend a hand and thereby take our relationships to a new level (helping with a move is big; it's like going all the way), my stuff is in the new place. The living room is looking fantastic so far. I have my new bed and my blinds are apparently in at Sears. The upcoming week is going to be devoted to getting the new place in shape. So far so good. I spent my first night there last night, and I was a bit spooked as I tried to become accustomed to the noises the new place makes. No incidents during the night time, anyhow.

This morning Andrea and I had breakfast with Matt Thompson at the Elgin Street Diner. We kicked the past around a bit and discussed Matt's love life. He said that I've changed over the years. I didn't quite get him to specify what he meant, but it came off as a compliment. He's doing fairly well but wants to nail down some job specifics. Welcome to adulthood.

Andrea came over last night and helped me break in the new place, so to speak. We had a nice talk about us. I'm at her place now, using the Internet. I went by Rogers last night to schedule a hook-up and they can't do it until September 8th. That's almost three weeks from now. I may not be able to update my journal everyday, but Andrea and I are living two blocks away from each other now, so I'll be using geography to my advantage.

I should update, since I'm not sure when I'll have a net connection again. I'll be getting up in about five hours to get the move going. By this time tomorrow I'll be passed out on my futon in the new apartment, thankful that I won't have to move again for the foreseeable future.

I saw Doctor Archibald today, who asked me a few questions about my back and gave me a sheet of exercises to try. He pretty much told me exactly what I was expecting - the only thing that will help my back is time, care and exercise. My back IS getting better, it's just getting better very slowly. The exercises will hopefully help it along.

I got a call from Matt Thompson, an old high school friend, and he's currently in Ottawa. We're going to have breakfast on Wednesday morning after I'm back in town. It's funny to hear from him, since I was just thinking about the letters we used to write each other, discussing big ideas, philosophizing and kicking around scientific and mathematical concepts. It was a lot more entertaining than it sounds. Matt used to have this theory that he was the center of the universe, and that everyone else was a figment of his imagination. Over time the theory grew and grew. We would spend HOURS talking about the ramifications and procedural implications of the theory. I used to have an email that detailed it, though it seems to have gone the way of an exploding star. Matt's also the first gay friend I ever had. Now he's the first doctor friend I have.

I'm worried about this U of T graduation/account balance bullcrap. I emailed Cecilia, who works in the English grad department, about it, and she told me to call her. Not a good sign. I would have much preferred a "No problem! Just do this and this to graduate! Congrats!" type email. All I can do is call her and find out what's going on.

I've looked forward to tomorrow for so long. Now it's today.

I'm back in Peterborough until Tuesday. I keep getting messages for invites out from folks who don't realize I left Ottawa. Sometimes I forget that only 13 people or so have access to this blog, and it probably isn't read by all on a daily basis. I should just go back to Ottawa and stay put for awhile. Sounds good.

Yesterday Matt and I went to see Tropic Thunder. It was funny, I'll give it that. Not the funniest film I've seen, but it's funny. Fun to watch. Tom Cruise has been getting a lot of attention for his role in it, and people were applauding him in the theatre. But Robert Downey Jr. steals the picture. As strange as he looks in blackface, he looks even stranger as a blonde, starry-eyed Australian. The film is offensive and downright disgusting at times, but it's also often sharp and merciless, and it serves up a healthy amount of funny cameos.

In the evening we played poker with Dana and Adam and I lost big time. I took the 2:30 bus back and here I sit. Tomorrow I'm getting my back checked out. Then it's Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday.

The setlist:

15 Step
Reckoner
Optimistic
There There
Morning Bell
All I Need
Pyramid Song
Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
The Gloaming
A Wolf At The Door
Faust Arp
No Surprises
Jigsaw Falling Into Place
Idioteque
Climbing Up The Walls
Nude
Bodysnatchers

Encore 1

Like Spinning Plates
Videotape
Airbag
Talk Show Host
Street Spirit (Fade Out)

Encore 2

House Of Cards
Planet Telex
Everything In Its Right Place

Unbelievable show. A better one than the one I saw five years ago, because they're touring on a stronger record that I've been listening to for almost a year. Hearing older songs like Planet Telex and Talk Show Host was a pleasure. Everyone stood out of their seats for the entire show. I've never heard a reaction as loud as the one given when the band came out for their second encore. Even Thom Yorke faked being bowled over at the noise. Fantastic lights. There was a double rainbow in the sky just before the sun set.

I've been having connection problems lately, so I'll hope this posts. The other day I finished reading Gratitude. Yesterday I emailed Joe some thoughts I had on the book, and he emailed me back promptly thanking me and offering some encouragement. He also said that earlier in the day, Tim O'Brien had emailed him some praise. I had just finished reading O'Brien's "The Things They Carried" yesterday, so it was a neat coincidence. I also re-read Joyce Carol Oates' "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?", which is a phenomenal piece of unsettling work.

I've been keeping a low profile at home, hanging out mostly with the folks, which my mother seems to appreciate. We watched The Bucket List last night. I've been thinking for quite some time that I'd like to launch some sort of review website where I do quick and dirty reviews of films, records, books and such. Just a hundred words or so each, more for my own personal benefit than anything else.

Radiohead's show at the Molson Ampitheatre might be a great starting point. I've been looking forward to this for awhile. It'll be my second time seeing my favorite band.

Yesterday my mom was feeling well enough to accompany my dad and I to Whitby to check out the new X-Files movie. I enjoyed it, but I'm an X-Phile. It's one of my geekier qualities. I'd been planning to see it with my mother for quite some time, as we used to watch the series together when I was in high school. After the movie we ate dinner at Montana's and headed back for Peterborough.

This morning I had lunch at Smitty's with my dad and sisters. The folks have been generous the last few days, making contributions towards the new apartment. Dad dug out an old coffee maker and toaster for me to use. Today the old man sprung for a new microwave at Canadian Tire. Thanks to him it looks like I'll actually have THINGS to put in the apartment.

Fireworks are going off in the distance. Every Wednesday and Saturday night during the summer, the Festival of Lights continues at Del Crary Park.

I miss my girlfriend.

My mother hasn't been feeling well. Her diet is pretty messed up right now because just about every food she eats aggravates her stomach. She's been eating these Del Monte fruit ice cream bars non-stop for months. Something has to change or she's going to get really sick. Thankfully she's seeing a doctor about it later this month. She really needs to start taking better care of herself. She'll be 60 next year and her body definitely doesn't work the way it used to.

I have this fear, sometimes, that my dad is going to long outlive my mom. I love my dad, but I can't imagine being completely alone with him without my mom there as a occasional buffer. I was sitting at the kitchen table reading yesterday and my dad came in and started talking about her illnesses and his parents and where they came from and on and on for a half an hour. I barely said a word. I was amazed at how badly he must have needed someone to actually pay attention to what he was saying. He's got a lot on his mind, but his mind works in a way that won't let him fully accept the things he thinks about. And my dad loves to talk, not with people, but at them. He loves an audience with whom he can share observations. He really would have been a great motivational speaker. Or a priest. He would have made a fantastic priest, if he didn't have such a convoluted view of organized religion. I can't imagine what he'd be like without my mom around. Or I can, and it disturbs me a little.

My sister's ex-fiance showed up late last night looking for her. She broke up with him a few months ago and he's a wreck. She wasn't here, so my dad took him outside and tried to set him straight about showing up at the house unannounced. The guy lives in Toronto, which means he must have bussed here not really caring about what would happen once he showed up. They had been dating for seven years, from about age 18 to 25. I can't imagine going through that and having it end after such a long time. I've been in far shorter relationships and thought I'd never recover emotionally from the breakups. A part of me hates to say it, but after awhile you get used to the idea that relationships can end, that they only succeed when and if everything lines up correctly. To think that you're part of this invincible thing that goes on for years and to see it destroyed must be tough. I understand why he doesn't get it, and why he can't let go, but I wish he'd do a little growing up for my family's sake.

Dad took me out to Walmart last night and we picked up some stuff for the new apartment. The joys of coffee tables, end tables and bathroom accessories! So many aisles of products I didn't think I'd ever care two craps about! When we got back we watched the season nine finale of The X-Files. The plan today is to see a matinee showing of the new movie in Whitby, since it isn't playing in Peterborough any longer, but my folks have been late risers this week. It's 12:30 and they're still in bed. Crazy kids.

Went to see The Dark Knight again last night with the folks and I think I enjoyed it even more the second time around. The first time I felt like I was waiting for the action to end because it was so intense. This time I knew how the story unfolded, so I could sit back and take in more of the plot. Mom and Dad liked it a lot. My mom has a lot of sympathy for actors who die young, and Heath Ledger is no exception. One of her favorite expressions, though she didn't use it last night, is "he/she's such a good little actor/actress."

I'll hopefully be hitting up Walmart today to pick up some clothes and/or appliances. My parents offered to give me an old coffee table. I really should make a list of the things I'm going to need so that I can pick some of them up while I'm here and just take them to Ottawa on the truck next week.

I showed my mother a website I found that contains a sound file of my grandfather reading poetry on the radio program he used to host. It made her cry. It's right here, if you're interested. That's his band playing in the background.

After scrambling to finish packing my things and leaving the apartment to catch a bus, I'm in Peterborough. My dad picked me up from the station. I spent the evening talking with my folks, telling them what I've been up to lately, getting filled in on what's new in their lives. We spoke lazily over Star Wars films that were showing on Space.

I'd like to get some reading and writing done this week. I've got about a hundred pages to go in Joe's book, and I packed my books on reading and narrative craft. No laptop, but I should be stretching my longhand muscle anyhow.

I was insatiably horny when I woke up this morning. There's a pillow on the bed that's stuffed with feathers and the calami kept poking me in the arm and face when I was trying to sleep. I could grab them and pull them right through the pillowcase. A very weird sensation, especially in the dark when I couldn't tell what they were.

Yesterday I was on my way to the new apartment (which needs a name. Suggestions?) when the thought struck me: I needed to pack my shit. The night would be my last at Riverside. I'm taking off for Peterborough/Toronto today, and when I come back it will be to move everything out. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten about it. Thankfully, I still hadn't unpacked a lot of things. Most of it is still in my closet, untouched since I moved in. The bulk of the rest was books, DVDs and my computer, so it didn't really take that long. Right now all of my stuff is in boxes yet again. Another move. Another freaking move. My ninth in ten years. Why can't I stay still?

I finished off the living room yesterday, or at least it's as finished as it's going to get. Fuck painting. My hands are really tender from washing them 20 times a day. I might pick up a small can of white to do some touch-ups, but I'll worry about that when I get back. It's done for now. I've figured out how I'm going to organize the living room once I get a new loveseat and coffee table. It's going to be swell.

I picked up the kitchen set at Hartman's yesterday - pots, a frying pan, oven mitt, measuring cups, dish soap scrubber, bag clips, spatula, spoons, steak knives, etc. etc. Over the week I've been eating the fruit salads they sell at the veggie counter for lunch. I've also been frequenting the Tim Hortons at Gloucester and Bank more than I ever have in the past. I'm starting to get used to the idea that the meaning of Ottawa, in general, changes only if I change. Cities can mount construction sites and tear up streets and physically alter in innumerable ways. I can move into a new apartment and change my surroundings. But the way I see the city only changes when my own needs and concerns and desires shift. So the city is new to me, in a way, which is a very positive thing, because it means I'm not allowing myself to get bored.

They're putting up a new building beside the Scotiabank on Bank Street. I can say that I was there when it was built. I watched it go up, from my seat in a Tim Hortons over a bagel and coffee, thinking about all the packing I still had to do.

Still not finished painting. The living room is going to need THREE coats of burgundy over the primer. Oi. I should be able to do it with the two cans I bought from Home Depot. About one and a half coats left to go. I'll say one thing - if three coats doesn't do it, I'm calling what results a conscious design choice.

In other news, Hartman's is selling cutlery and cooking sets for cheap. I picked up a set of seven complete place settings for ten bucks yesterday. Today I'm going back for the kitchen set. Someone also dumped a table and two chairs in front of the apartment, so I grabbed them. It's one of those tables with a removable piece in the middle. I have to figure out how to put it back together.

This will be my fifth day painting on my own. I'm getting a bit lonely. I spend hours a day painting walls, watching TV in my head. It gets to be a strange feeling after awhile. Today is the last of it, though. I'm positive.

The painting continues. I put a primer on my living room and it's pink. Painting those pipes and the radiator complicates things a bit, but hopefully I'll get it finished off today. I don't know where I'm finding the energy as by the end of each day I feel like I've been dropped off a cliff, but it's getting there.

Yesterday I went to Sleep Country Canada and tested some beds and almost fell asleep. I ordered one (with matching navy sheets) and it's due to be delivered on the 20th. The location I visited was way out on Carling and I foolishly took the 85, which has to be the slowest bus route in the city. It did take me on a tour of where I spent a lot of time back in the early part of the 2000's. Not much has changed.

I'm getting the new place ready for the move, and that requires a lot of painting. I picked up over 200 bucks worth of painting supplies at Home Depot in order to turn my bedroom blue and my living room burgundy.

One thing I forgot about painting: it's hard, annoying, messy work. On Monday night I was only able to get a coating of the primer onto my bedroom walls before I was too exhausted to continue. My back isn't in the best of shape to begin with, but now my whole body feels like scrambled eggs. Today I was able to paint for eight hours and finish off the bedroom. Tomorrow I'll start the living room and pray it's finished by Thursday night.

I spent 50 bucks on cleaning supplies for the kitchen and bathroom at Hartman's today. How depressing. Living on one's own is an expensive venture. This will be the first time I've ever not been able to rely on the goods college kids have been shipped out of their parents' homes with. No couch, no coffee table, no kitchen appliances or cutlery of any kind. Thank God for the dollar store on Bank.

So far I have ruined a shirt and a pair of pants painting, as well as the bathing suit I just bought. A new place calls for a new wardrobe anyhow.

The average human body is 65% water. Lean muscle tissue is 75% water. Body fat is 14% water. Bone is 22% water. And blood is 95% water. The human heart beats an average of almost 2.7 billion times over the course of 71 years. In a human life that long, the heart pumps 684,156 gallons of blood. About 650,000 gallons of that is water. Enough to fill a reservoir.

Waves are caused by a number of factors. Storms, quakes and strong winds drive water shoreward, along with the gravitational pulls of the sun and moon. Waves approaching a shoreline tend to break in various ways - the energy of the wave's forward motion destabilizes when it reaches a certain amplitude and the wave overtakes itself in a cresting motion. Lake Huron is home to over a thousand shipwrecks dating back to the mid-17th century. The Great Storm of 1913 raged for 16 hours and killed 235 men, sank ten ships, and sent over 20 more ashore.

Before a ship drops temporary anchor, a location should be scouted to conform to known and current weather conditions. Once decided upon, the location should be approached from down wind or down current, whichever is stronger. Scope must be determined based on water depth in order to configure whether or not the anchor chain will allow for the anchor to impact the sea bed from its point of release. Sandy mud, mud and clay, or firm sand compose ideal sea beds. Loose sand and soft mud are to be avoided.

An anchor must battle wind, currents and the vertical movements of waves. The nautical expression "anchor's aweigh" refers to the anchor's state of being neither stowed nor lodged in the sea bed, but simply hanging from the ship. Once the anchor sees impact, a smooth tension in the line as opposed to a series of jolts indicates digging. The ship's position must then be assessed to figure out if it must weigh anchor and move to a more ideal location.

On July 31st, 2008, the Phoenix spacecraft, currently conducting research on the surface of Mars, melted a collection of soil containing ice gathered from the planet's surface. It is the fist physical evidence obtained by humans that there is ice water on another planet. Further tests are currently being performed for carbon-containing chemicals, which will open further the possibility of life once existing - or someday existing - on Mars.

The day after Phoenix made its discovery, Norm Thorne passed away at Alexandra Hospital in Ingersoll, Ontario at the age of 71, surrounded by loved ones who stayed with him hours after his passing. That night, the skies opened up to let him in, covering the city of London and its surrounding areas with a deluge of rain and light.

This 22-year-old kid named Tim was killed in pretty horrific fashion on a Greyhound bus yesterday and I can't stop sweating over the grisliness of it. Poor guy. This other lad is popping up a lot in the news articles because he was sitting in front of the attack and was probably the first to notice what was happening, so he ushered the rest of the passengers off the bus.

A question that's being asked is why no one stepped in to immediately help the kid. I'm sure the passengers are asking themselves the same question, and will be for the rest of their lives. I'm not sure how I would have reacted in that situation if I had been the one to see it happen first. I don't know in what direction my adrenaline would have taken me. It's a crapshoot, anyway. The murder happened at the BACK of the bus in the middle of the night. If a guy wakes you up, tells you a passenger in the back has a knife (a really long, sharp one), and tells you to get your ass moving, you get your ass moving. That's the direction in which the guy's adrenaline took him, and as a result, no one else was hurt. I'm sure it's going to haunt him forever.

I have to stop dwelling on this. I've never been a bad news junkie. There's something about this in particular though that resonates with me. Maybe it's because it's such a random event that could have happened to me on any trip I ever made. There was no premeditation. Just a sociopath with a knife, a calm demeanor and a bus ticket. It's eerie. Passengers already make me nervous when they make too many trips to the washroom, or when I can smell alcohol on them, or when they act somehow out of the ordinary. I've taken the Greyhound from one end of this country to the other, and I know this is as rare an occurrence as you'll find, but I still feel as though I'll be giving everyone a second, third, fourth look.