Feeling Lost at Times

Five Hundred and One German Verbs. Funny to see this in the 'entertainment' section. Why would anybody buy a book that contains a number of German verbs? Why not get a dictionary instead? And why five hundred and one? No, it just makes no sense to me. I make a few steps to the right and another title catches my eye: A Thousand and One Ridiculous Ways to Die. This one is placed in 'general interests'.

After I check out a couple of shops in Camden I find myself lost. Not in terms of location, I mean, of course I know where I am. What I mean is a more general way of being lost. Lost in life, perhaps, but that sounds a bit dramatic. The word confusion comes to mind, and maybe that's a blurry enough way to describe my state of mind. What else, let's see. Lack of appreciation is an issue these days, I think, and loss of motivation, too. 

I get on a bus, just any bus that comes along, and I take a seat on the upper level. For a few minutes I stare out the window and witness how everything just passes by. People, houses, entire streets just disappear from my sight and the surface of the world. Next stop is Drummand Street, the speaker voice says. I'm on the twenty-seven to Turnham Green. Good, I think. That's good. That's at least a fourty-five minute ride.

I put on my headphones and start reading. "There was a lightbulb. I mean, this one bare lightbulb, and that's all. And there was a bed. Or, almost a bed. Really, it was just an old bed frame with an old mattress on it and an old bedspread over the mattress. And when I say old, I mean old! And the walls - good gosh, the walls!" I read on about the walls and what happens within them. It's a good story.

The world outside keeps spinning and the streets keep passing by. I enjoy sitting here without a care, just reading. Word after word, page after page. People get up and go downstairs, only to be replaced by other people. A teenage girl is singing in the back of the bus, but I can't hear her because I don't want to. I only pay attention to my book. It's a good book. Next stop is Kensington High Street. Just a little farther.

I know I have to get off the bus at some point. I have to leave London, too, I realise. At some point I have to get up and leave. Leave again. But when do I ever arrive? I don't even know where I'm headed to. You know, sometimes it upsets me to see things I would like to buy. Like a nice table, for example. Sure, I could save up and buy a nice table. But the question is, where would I put it? I have no home. No place to put a fucking table! And that's where I feel lost again.