The Courier Business

is more like constant traffic reporting.

A Chapter Closed.

And yesterday I listened to a sad song. I put an unlabeled cd into my car stereo and the familiar sadness uplifting repetitive sound of things playing out. I was sad but happy but maybe not exactly sad I was loose. I was disengaged from the start. So, I drove in and on and I didn’t try to beat the red lights this time. I stopped and waited and didn’t curse when the car ahead kept their foot on the brake, the red light consuming that afternoon. I felt like letting go, like I was a secret and no one could know. I dreamt so many things this weekend in the rain.


Essentially the courier business is around because people fuck up. And when people fuck up, they seek a quick fix.


I am so completely over you.

The desk of a dispatcher. 

(From top left to right:
Envelope for town, coffee mug, flyer, red pen, coffee cup, three candles, notes including: pick up information, addresses, telephone numbers, current read, walkie, pencil and black pen, more notes.)