Dear Stranger

Every time I finish a novel I write a note to a stranger and leave it in a public space. This last note is transcribed from the book i'm reading - The Hummingbird's Daughter by Luis Alberto Urrea. Admittedly, it is way more for me than it ever was for the stranger (grant it, these notes always are), so i figured it is best suited in the transcribed environment of a self-indulgent blog spot. Here's whats what

Dear Stranger,

The grey carpeted seats are loose in their place, shaking steadily to the sway of this aluminum 'hound streaming down I-8 E. First of many rides on my impending two-month long bus trip - yes, these seats are surely dancing in celebration, rewarding my lasting delay in San Diego. Goodbye idyllic sunsets and tan northern europeaners. Goodbye sarongs wrapped as dresses and beer bongs for breakfast. Goodbye tolerable sunshine and overly trusting strangers. Goodbye to the carefree saunterers, longboarders, surfers, skaters, bikers and other genres of movers and shakers. I'm moving east. And they say (read: i fictionalize and therefore believe) that the further east you forge, the rougher it gets. Desperate for diminishing eye-contact and judgmental stares directed at my unfamiliar presence; for people who show almost as little of an interest in me as their city does; for that sensation of instability and isolation that is hidden in the kindness of western san diego... I pound eastward. And already I'm filled with the tingling sensation of novelty that runs up my legs with every new space I encounter. The faux leather seats glue to my bare thighs like a lover wrapping around you, holding you in bed for just 10 more minutes. The loose seats rattle louder, the highway twists up unexpectedly, my fellow passengers turn their backs to my obtrusive overhead light - groaning and squirming in protest. And instead of sitting in the solidarity of darkness, I let my smile widen as I scribble this note to you, dear stranger, because it's truly only you and me who know i'm moving east. East in my new home. East, being the most intimidating (read: irritating) motherfucker on this greyhound. East for new faces and spaces and conversations. East to be put in my goddamned place already. So despite that this note is increasingly becoming more for me than it was ever for you, dear stranger, just allow me one last indulgence as I remind myself of those important things that I need to remember. And in consolation for your gorgeous patience and applaudable tolerance of my babbling and bad handwriting, I will gift you this breathtaking novel. Pardon the unprecedented foreword, and enjoy the ride.

THINGS TO BE THOUGHT OF OFTEN:

- speaking to strangers

- asking EVERYTHING

- writing for an hour each day

- spending one day in every city walking around

- calling/emailing/stalking city representatives

THINGS TO THINK OF LESS OFTEN:

- your hesitations

- what you could be missing

- yourself

Love,

Rach