Last night I rode the bus and finished another 50 pages of ZATAOMM. I'm almost done (maybe tonight). I rode the #71 Haight/Noriega to the Ocean, got off after sundown and walked to watch the waves in the moonlight, came back to the bus, chatted with the bus driver some, and took it reverse back to downtown. Then I rode the #38 Geary bus a bit.
Finally I rode the #21 Hayes street bus. This mixed-race white/black man out of Harlem drove the bus, seemingly hep and stoned, but really devout Muslim and sober as a judge, singing 50's soul songs in a high pitched voice, picking up singers/strippers/sailors along the way. This fat black woman got up and accompanied him. Some skateboard dude slapped his shoe in rhythm. I read Zen. It all seemed to fit. It wasn't distracting because it was part of life; it fit the book. I read how the past doesn't have a past and the future doesn't have a future, because only the present have a past and a future. I also read how Art and Quality are the ways that men create God. And that the words "God" and "good" come from the same German root word. The bus hit the end of the line, 6th and Fulton, next to Golden Gate Park. The bus driver parked, didn't know I was there and continued singing:
"I'm a-waiting, oh, yes, I'm a waiting, only for your love, oh
yes, like a snowball riding on the surface of the sun, I'm
waiting for your love."
He really had an amazing voice for an bus driver.
Finally he figured out that I was on the bus, had a hoot and a holler about that one, invited another bus driver on board, related a few bus driver stories (BDS's) about a guy named Richard who rides the bus because he's lonely and drunk, and how they're sick of his attitude. Then some joking and singing. The driver wore a Muslim cap, said his name was Mohammed, and conversed a bit about philosophy. He talked about Allah, of course, and growing up in Harlem, where "..everybody sang! You know, people out here, they say 'I don't sing' but you never heard that in Harlem, cause *everybody* sang! You know? They just did! It was, like, part of life!'" He mentioned that the devil is in the winds, you know. He moves. He's in the blowing winds. Then the other bus driver left and he began his return trip. Now I was at the front talking to him, like a little kid. He asked me where I grew up, whether I liked it out here, knew that I didn't like some things, and said that it didn't matter where'd I go. That Allah was there, whatever your Allah may be (my spin), something like that. Then he said - and this blew me away - "You know that the words 'God' and 'good' come from the same German word?" (Ha HA! Another little jibe from Fate!) And when I pointed out that I had read that exact part in this book I had not more than 10 minutes ago, he said something like "You see, that doesn't surprise me at all! Maybe Allah is talking to you tonight!" He recommended that I read a book called "Two Babylons" and then he let me off at Divisadero.
