The day's too nice for this thick jacket. I'm on the bus again. Siempre. Should have worn the sport coat. Mierde. This shit is too bumpy, and this notebook to soft in the cover. Just one more thing: I'm stuffed like a relleno pepper up in this bitch with school children. High school. Teenage girls and their familiar tone, even if I only understand a word or too. Is it strange that I don't see them in the present? Not who they are now, but who they will be in say, five years or so. In their prime. When they'll be attractive to me because now, right now they aren't. Maybe pretty, yes. Pero not attractive. They aren't ripe yet. Like the oranges right now in San Isidro.
