The Wanderer. Success through smallness.
    Perseverance brings good fortune to the wanderer.

Changing yin at the bottom means:
If the wanderer busies himself with trivial things,
He draws down misfortune upon himself.

Changing yang at the top means:
The bird's nest burns up.
The wanderer laughs at first,
Then must needs lament and weep.
Through carelessness he loses his cow.
Misfortune.

-- I Ching, Hexagram 56

Internet says that the Greyhound to Sarasota costs 135 dollars. I kind of hoped it was cheaper but I guess it's okay. I just printed the timetable even though I still can't buy the ticket until I know that I can actually walk with this knee. I don't know what's going to happen if things don't get better, unless it's my intention to let NYC devour me alive for my money.

I am actually tired of the way money is sucked from people here in the city. It's not for the money, I'm game going for broke, I haven't been doing much else in the last years, but the ways, and the reckless lack of sense of proportion, that hurts my nerves.

In the meantime I'm on for the craiglists rideshares too (Ok, I lied in the ad, it's not that I love to drive. Unless I'm on secondary roads and I can go as slow as I want.)

I am trying a funny cream for the knee that is called "bengay", it is meant for joint inflammations and similar things and I'm trying to believe in it. Although, they should probably write on the boxes that, after you rubbed whatever with bengay and you still have some on your hand, you better not touch, you know, there. I tend to have this reflex when I'm alone in bed thinking and doing nothing, looking up at the ceiling or whatever, touching myself. Bengay sort of roasts your genitals alive if you do. I mean, it could also be pleasurable for some, but I think it's one of the classic side effects you should be warned about.

Greyhound says that there are eighteen destinations between here and Sarasota, and three transfers to make. To read the list of the city names gives me a momentary feeling of upcoming adventure, and fuzzy unreasonable expectations. But they're probably going to be all big cities taken over by cars and business, where all the good things, if any, will be hidden to someone like me. Be in the city like from behind a window. Get off the bus to pee and have coffee and get on it again, like the cliche wants.

It doesn't matter. The ways of the trip don't matter. So many things don't matter since when I left. Had I to write down a list of the things that don't matter, or matter in a very different way now, it probably would come a list as long as the list of cities touched by the greyhound bus between here and sarasota, florida in a little more than a one day ride.

-- in picture, above: a different sort of bus running through the village