i dont understand how i can get so much joy from covering my pets with blankets and watching the lump move around
I love bus trips, the longer the better. Whenever I’ve been in what you could politely call a “transitional phase” in my life, I take a long bus trip, leaving a relationship or job or whatever else on fire in the rearview mirror. Greyhound buses are my safe place, where I do all my best brooding and letter-writing and self-reflection. I need the in-between-ness, the unmoored-ness, the lack of accountability to anyone or anything else, and the giddy nihilism of sleep deprivation, junk food, and truck stop coffee.
It’s a weird and maybe a sad thing to say, but I never feel more like myself, for better or worse, than when I’m on the Greyhound. In recognition of the yearning feeling I get whenever I see a bus pulling onto the highway, I have a stick-and-poke tattoo of a bus on my right leg.
Lily Pepper, from The Overland Route
I highly recommend this zine. I can hella relate to the above quotation, and the sentiment behind the zine, even if I’ve always been more of a car or train person than a bus person. (I can also relate to the part about “listening to songs in the circumstances the song describes” - me too, Lily, me too!) It’s a mini-zine about travel, leaving your life behind, discovering the world, and navigating white privilege as a white person, and it’s really good. Hit up zine-reviews (or email firstname.lastname@example.org) to get a copy.(via rustbeltjessie)