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Today I woke without even a blink, from a sleep I never took before the familiar face of Mario.
Bored as fuck at that point I said "fuck it," and decided to play commuter. A game I hadn't played in ages.
This trip was harrowing at times but rather a growth experience.

I walked down The Path, to the Avondale MARTA station and rode downtown, with all the real people who had real shit to do. Listening to their asinine phone conversations though I feel comfortable stating: Their shit does not matter that much.

I was pleased to see a friendly MARTA passenger crowd: working people, students, hobos, and essentially no gang bangers. Props to MARTA there and for trains running on time.

Downtown was, unexpectedly the exact scene I expected. A Jesus Freak Yelling, cops everywhere, hustlers everywhere, The shining gold dome of the Capital, the looming alabaster spires of the courthouse. Both brought back VERY different memories. As a paige I visited the capital daily to assist our lawmakers, and later as a suspect the courthouse saw justice served on me. This visit, just as last, showed me a carnal parcel of spiritually selected livestock bones stashed behind the defendants' exit.

The trip home lacked the exhilaration of going downtown for no fucking reason, but still trains are fun to ride.
I tried to maintain a view of the disused warehouse areas near candler park, but this Emory student kept flexing in front of me. 24 hours without sleep left me not even feeling like pretending to flirt though.

Off the train and onto onto the road Atlanta reminds you of why it's not the most pedestrian friendly city.
Soon Enough though I meet back up with Path and follow it's merry way along back alleys industrial shitholes, crackhouses, and Volvo Mechanics. When the concrete silos loomed high though I knew I was home.
...
Not Really. Home was still about a mile away, but it's newb terrain.