ipod note writing on a bus

On a bus from Cusco to La Paz. Nude by Radiohead. One step up from a greyhound for a fourteen hour drive.

Hope we have enough food

hope I don't have to use the bathroom

hope no one steals my stuff while i sleep

hope I sleep.

Superfluous concerns. So what if the guy at the bus terminal sold us a super cama with seats that recline to 180 degrees, hot meals and pillows? So we over-payed. So what there were 30 puppies in a tiny wooden crate bound for a six hour bus ride?

Not "so what".

They probably won't make it alive.

So what there's no toilet paper.

They were beautiful, soft, melting together in a drugged heap. Could they even breathe?

Am I really just supposed to ignore the fact that one of them lifted his head out of the wooden planked-prison, chewed on my fingers and became mine? He would sell them all to me for 100 dollars. The price of 30 puppies freedom from the stifling and inhumane crate.

What will I do with 30 puppies?

Can I walk away?

No, i can't. I absolutely cannot. their paws are still soft and pink and fragile. Absence of a plan creates the facade of an escape route, the shirking of responsibility by excuse of powerlessness. So now part of me is on a bus, heading into Bolivia worrying about bathroom conditions and theft of possessions but still unable to walk away. A hundred dollars is burning a hole in my conscience, teeth marks on my finger and "so what" resounding angrily in my mind. Ballad of Distances Part I by Stars of the Lid.

I don't forecast any sleep on this ride but the stars are bright and I don't think i'll run out of mountains; maybe just batteries on my ipod and different positions to contort into on a bus seat. The Spanish movie is so loud I can hear it through my ear plugs and Ipod music (Secos y molhados by Os Mutantes). They always play violent movies on buses, probably as an effort to compensate for the extreme lack of action within the bus but serving instead as a frequent wakeup call with a side of a heart attack as you're roused from slumber by an AK47 dispensing multiple rounds into a (deserving? I haven't been following the plot) victim, which is a welcome relief once you realize the bus is not being hijaked. They're all deserving in my books.

I should invest in some noise-cancelling ear phones, I think that they would radically improve my life. I could walk around with them on, cord tucked into my pocket, bobbing my head a bit and giving off the erroneous illusion that I'm just your average hipster listening to music. Little would people know I would actually be achieving peace of mind by cancelling out gratuitous ruckus and concentrating on my prolific thought processes (oh, noise-cancelling headphones will also render my thought processes prolific. So it's a good investment.) I wonder how the world would feel silent; a perfect way to gain control of it by turning it into a silent movie with my own internal dialogue and soundtrack, the sole audience member and simultaneous director of my own hushed production. I would also be able to sleep better on long bus rides.

Next on my list of potential investment should be pins. they are an efficient and artistic means of conveying messages. For example, I met a very interesting fellow from australia on a train who was sporting a pin that said "I am not gay" so i didn't even need to ask, avoiding a potentially awkward situation. when attending a dinner party where i'll be obliged to introduce myself numerous times, I'll simply don a pin detailing my pertinent personal information (that which is relevant to the particular social construct) and when i tire of repeating myself i'll simply ask my new acquaintance to kindly refer to the aforementioned pin. The advantages are endless, really, and I can color coordinate them with my new Alpaca wardrobe. From now on i will be clad entirely head-to-toe in Alpaca.

Bolivia. What is there in Bolivia? Is the traveler searching or observing? Are all these Alpaca-clad backpack-toting wanderers looking for something? Is it always the same? Wisdom in distance and growth in experience? what is there in bolivia?

There is a road block 15 k from the border with peru. There are rocks barring entry by way of vehicule. There is an angry mob of farmers potentially blocking entry by means of pedestrian transportation. There is a bus that does not have super camas or hot meals parked at the side of the road, full of confusion, the prediction of the protest lasting two days and certain young traveler really hoping that we don't have to walk. This is what there is in bolivia thus far.