I wake up on time. I think I fell asleep at 5 or 6, I can’t remember. I was trying to download Tetsuo: Iron Man from the various peer-to-peer clients I have with little luck. I did get Lenny Bruce’s “Thank You Mask Man” after months of searching. The light that manages to peek out behind the cardboard and blankets I have covering my window bothers me. I wonder why I haven’t foiled it over yet. I shower, taking my time since being late doesn’t matter all that much. On my way to the bus, I stop by the office to drop off my rent check and my lease renewal. They are closed today, so I slip it into the mail slot in the door. I signed for a month-to-month rental. My rent will go up, but I will not be tied in if I find the means to escape, or suffer the meltdown I’ve been so close to. The squeak of the mail door brings me back to this moment, I need to get to the bus. It doesn’t look good to be late every day. A new bus schedule came out a week or two ago and I don’t think it’s been given to the drivers yet. The Flamingo bus was over ten minutes late. As I am waiting for it, there are two school children with musical instruments standing on the sidewalk near me. One is a black girl, the other is a possible Hispanic male. It can be difficult to tell sometimes. The two are trading CD-R’s and then placing them in their portable CD players. Their music cases are for either a brass or woodwind. The male walks away as the bus approaches and the girl embarks with us. On Eastern, there is some Catholic stronghold. It’s called “St. Viator’s Rectory” or some such. A line of vehicles, perhaps 50 or 60 strong, snakes through their parking lot. All of the vehicles are SUV’s, minivans, or trucks. I feel an intense rage, I want one of Russia’s missing suitcase nukes to turn this corner into a shrine for bloated consumption. The Pecos bus was also late, making a synchronicity that manages to coincide my arrival at work with the time I’m actually supposed to be there.