Nov 23, 2006 22:17
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,
Lives in a dream.
Waits at the window, wearing a face she keeps in a jar by the door,
Who is it for?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
Sitting in a make-shift bus stop. A wet bus stop. Spying on yet another family reunion. I suppose that's the only perk of having to wait over half an hour for the bus to show.
People watching that is. Except they aren't as interesting as you would hope. In fact they can quite likely bore you to death and back.
I suppose I do get too absorbed in my own world to really watch them. (did that sound creepy?). You can't blame me though. This country really isn't one for dramatics. The most I get is lewd looks from passing truck drivers.
What a way to start the day.
A bowl of cereal, Orange Juice and lewd looks. The complete breakfast.
Incidentally I have the two most boring classes with the worst teachers back to back.
Oh this is going to be a good day....I can tell.