Artificial Intimacy

To my mothers disgust and my father's pride, I favor the greyhound when traveling to and from school. Though the utilitarian benefits are an undeniable lure, it is the people who make it the obvious choice for me. Around a third of my travels feature a fascinating seat-mate and one-of-a-kind conversation. If you ask me, that is an impressive hit rate. I am constantly searching for people to share their worldly perspective with me, and it turns out people without enough wealth to back up their pretension are easier to coax wisdom from (I'm sure the extensive travel time doesn't hurt either). The trick to getting past superficial chat is a quietly probing question. As long as you don't show too much interest they assume your conversation is just a way to pass the time. Without the worry of ties you can fleetingly become their confidant. Though your stories may be fabricated, whatever you say reinvents truth. Both truth and morals are flexible in this temporary world. Sometimes I hear myself define morality differently from my own so I can more easily identify with the person I'm talking too or understand where their morals lie. 

One of my recent companions inspired me to make this into a post. He was around my age and on his way to Monterey without money, phone, or people. It was hard to get past the smell he greeted me with, a combination of dirty hair and cigarettes, but he was very interested in the music I had in my CD player which was distraction enough for me. As we ambled into conversation, I found him to be unusually articulate. He explained how he had bought his ticket with his reserve money and was hoping to find work and shelter (I mentally checked where my wallet was stored). Apparently his parents were missionaries in Thailand and he had only been in the states for a matter of years. We stopped and compared our religious doctrines and they lined up suprisingly well even though I'd call him more idealistic than myself. He kept explaining how he was just going from place to place till he found what he was looking for (love from what I gathered). He was wildly obsessed with imagination and animatedly told me about his internal adventures. Initially he toyed with drugs and thus became enraptured with his thoughts but apparently his new focus was living in elevated consciousness from which drugs were a distraction. From there we plugged into Radiohead's Kid A and let the music take us both close to one another and yet painfully far from humanity. The dark bus plowed on toward my home, his new life, and our seperation. 


When the album came to a close we quietly discussed the emotion and experience of our listen. I mused, "Our age group is the most open-minded. I have accepted that despite any efforts, my experiences will form into less flexible opinions. That's why I am in such a rush to thoroughly examine all sides of every life question." He paused, considered then plainly stated, "Is it okay if I kiss you?" Taken aback, I brushed him off, too confused to decide.


Breaking the heavy silence, I asked him had he ever been in love. "Once," he replied. Curious I inquired further. After much deliberation he decided to tell me the tragedy of His Girl. 


He began cleaning up his life when she informed him that she was pregnant with his child. Excitedly, he prepared for their life together as a family. One night her mother called him to say she and his unborn child had been killed in a car accident. From there he dove further into drugs and contemplated suicide. In tears he explained, "I wanted to kill myself but my instinct for self preservation prevented me from following her." He then tried to re-mold his life after this experience with a painful desire to explore what it meant to be alive. Though his hope kept him going he was eternally afraid that she always would be the only love of his life.


We talked awhile longer about our deep insecurities, it's strange how easy it was to rawly lay everything out for him. After we had poured everything out, we fell asleep arm to arm. As I drifted off I thought to myself that I could love him.


An announcement woke us declaring his stop to be upon us. With a fleeting goodbye, he carried himself and his only belongings off the bus to an unknowable and separate new life.