The rain on my skin

I rode the bus today. Read Neo about how Swedish authorities forcibly evict people from their homes to accomodate business owners who want their land. But that story will have to wait, because this one is about the bus driver’s mismanagement of the radio.

I was disturbed in my reading by him raising the volume so everybody in the bus could hear it. Apparently he wanted us to delight in the soccer results from today’s Real Madrid and Milan games. And maybe some others. I tried not to listen. I once worked with a reporter who took no interest in sports since he didn’t consider sporting events to be real events. They were staged, he said, taking place at pre-determined times and places in front of people who all agree to gather to witness an event. He was almost crucified by his colleagues, and I remember thinking it was shocking but intriguing. Now, 20 years later, I have come around to his thinking.

Anyway, after the soccer results Natasha Bedingfield’s amazing song Unwritten came on, with its message of taking control of your life and being everything you can be. Today. And the stupid driver turned the volume down. He probably just lost interest when the soccer results were in, but in my mind it turned into a tug-of-war for people’s attention; with thoughtful introspection holding the shit end of the stick after being beat out by a make-believe event featuring grown men kicking a ball.

If you don’t know the words, here are some of them:

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Even more beautiful than soccer.