I find myself alone, very much so, able to love and work and participate with others but ultimately alone on what has become a reckless pursuit of the
authentic or some fundemental truth on which to hang my hat; something on which to rest the entirety of my life, my ego, and my sense of self. Sitting
alone in the airport on my way to D.C. so I could participate in some Bullshit (with a capitol B) I was reading Melville, the two men next to me were Punjabi and wore the trademark turban of the Siek. They bantered back and forth in a foreighn tounge and then one dissapeared and returned with two steaming cups Seattles BEST coffee, thats bullshit because that coffee is awful. The seated man recieves the coffee, takes a sip, makes a face and the banter continues in a distinctly different tone.