A Bus rides around town, pausing at each stop, picking up jolly people as it circles about its busy bus business. Chugging its happy metal body up and down the city lanes and streets of an even busier city, fulfilling its obligations to the City that purchased it. At night, it pulls into a large urban yard beyond the suburbs of the metropolis, where it rests its weary engine, Come the gray dawn, the key switches, the petrol pumps, it turns the corner of the greasy yard, repeating the process over and over and over. This is the everyday life of a Bus, a BUS CALLED YOU.
Think about it?You pick people up and you drop them off, people who don't even know you exist. You go to your bed at night, just like the bus, and nobody cares. All they want is a bus to transport them to their daily destinations. They are far too busy feeling emotions and thoughts about others than to even care whether you crash, cut out, or, dare I say it, are sent to the scrap yard to be turned into a toaster. You are a 42 seater. You are a bus filled with emigrants, more worried about their lives than YOURS. You are a Bus, and nobody gives a rats ass about a Bus.
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY
Today, I will remind myself that I am a Bus and nobody cares about a Bus. That I am probably invisible. That I am Zero.
REALISTIC VIDEO OF THE DAY - JAPANESE JOURNALIST SHOT DEAD - NOBODY CARED
Monday, July 7, 2008
JULY 7TH - YOUR DAILY PHILOSOPHY REFLECTION - I AM A BUS
Labels:
artaud,
camus,
nietzsche,
philosopher,
philosophy,
poetry,
prose,
writers