aren't we all, in some sense, "riding a fucked up train"?
The other day as I locked up my bike outside the Penn Fine Arts building, I saw another bike EXACTLY LIKE MINE that I have never seen before, all brown and old-looking with the same orange decals. For a moment or two I was filled with anxiety, because I imagined that that bike was my bike's double, and when I walked inside I would see a shadow version of myself doing the same stuff I do.... only, weird.
Anyway, seriously, I think my heart skipped a beat there!!
Right now I'm in Savannah. This may be the last time I visit for a while, cause these family vacations always leave me feeling kind of depressed. Every time I come home I find myself more and more alienated from old friends, the businesses I used to frequent have moved or gone out of business, SCAD has spread insidiously through new neighborhoods, my parents seem more deranged, etc. I will probably just hole up in my old room, which is now just 4 blank walls with a bed between them [with 20 years worth of my junk piled in the closet], and read books until I return to Killadelphia. Also I have a 7 page paper left to do, but I left ALLLLL the materials I needed to write it back home... so I'm considering just NEVER doing it, because I'm bad to the bone. The LAZY bone.
I took the night train down here, which was pretty awesome. When I woke up, a man in a cowboy hat sitting across the aisle from me was yelling, "Heeeyyyy!! You ladies wanna manicure or a pedicure? Cause I'm the BEST, I'll get out the cuticle and the...the little damn thing and I'll fudge 'em all up and make it look like the Taj Mahal!! I don't know if you know what the Taj Mahal is, but when you see your fingernails--you'll, you'll KICK MY ASS, HAW HAW HAW!!" Then he slid a bottle out of his shirt sleeve, sloshed a good deal of rum into his orange juice, and held the cup out to me, demanding, "JUSSS..STICK YER FINGER IN THERE AND STIR IT!!" I refused, and he got kind of mad, then he said he would marry me and was basically just a total lush!! This was at 7 o'clock in the morning!! Also, he told me he had a "little girl" up in Fayetteville who was married to a Vietnam vet. He described this situation as "a sorta mix and match--like at Pizza Hut!" But apparently he truly loves this lady and visits her by rail every month. On the way home he always stocks up his suitcases full of liquor and gets the other passengers to smoke and drink with him ["we're on a FUCKED UP TRAIN, might as well joke and laugh!"], and the conductors always try to throw him off, because you aren't allowed to do any of that stuff! Also, the night before he had mumbled, "Thass mah wumman... thass MAH WUMMAN!!" really loudly in his sleep, which seemed funny at the time, but I guess he had been dreaming about a showdown with the lady's husband. At any rate, I wasn't sure whether I should feel sorry for the guy, or to just salute his life of forbidden romance, train riding, and boozing!
You know you've reached the South when someone boards the train in the middle of the night and hollers, "Woooooooooooooooooooooooo-EEEE!"
On an unrelated note, why do strangers keep asking me if I'm "into drama" [theater??] or if I'm British??
And what's with people rolling up just one of their pant legs, is that like a secret symbol wimps use to identify each other or something?
Anyway, seriously, I think my heart skipped a beat there!!
Right now I'm in Savannah. This may be the last time I visit for a while, cause these family vacations always leave me feeling kind of depressed. Every time I come home I find myself more and more alienated from old friends, the businesses I used to frequent have moved or gone out of business, SCAD has spread insidiously through new neighborhoods, my parents seem more deranged, etc. I will probably just hole up in my old room, which is now just 4 blank walls with a bed between them [with 20 years worth of my junk piled in the closet], and read books until I return to Killadelphia. Also I have a 7 page paper left to do, but I left ALLLLL the materials I needed to write it back home... so I'm considering just NEVER doing it, because I'm bad to the bone. The LAZY bone.
I took the night train down here, which was pretty awesome. When I woke up, a man in a cowboy hat sitting across the aisle from me was yelling, "Heeeyyyy!! You ladies wanna manicure or a pedicure? Cause I'm the BEST, I'll get out the cuticle and the...the little damn thing and I'll fudge 'em all up and make it look like the Taj Mahal!! I don't know if you know what the Taj Mahal is, but when you see your fingernails--you'll, you'll KICK MY ASS, HAW HAW HAW!!" Then he slid a bottle out of his shirt sleeve, sloshed a good deal of rum into his orange juice, and held the cup out to me, demanding, "JUSSS..STICK YER FINGER IN THERE AND STIR IT!!" I refused, and he got kind of mad, then he said he would marry me and was basically just a total lush!! This was at 7 o'clock in the morning!! Also, he told me he had a "little girl" up in Fayetteville who was married to a Vietnam vet. He described this situation as "a sorta mix and match--like at Pizza Hut!" But apparently he truly loves this lady and visits her by rail every month. On the way home he always stocks up his suitcases full of liquor and gets the other passengers to smoke and drink with him ["we're on a FUCKED UP TRAIN, might as well joke and laugh!"], and the conductors always try to throw him off, because you aren't allowed to do any of that stuff! Also, the night before he had mumbled, "Thass mah wumman... thass MAH WUMMAN!!" really loudly in his sleep, which seemed funny at the time, but I guess he had been dreaming about a showdown with the lady's husband. At any rate, I wasn't sure whether I should feel sorry for the guy, or to just salute his life of forbidden romance, train riding, and boozing!
You know you've reached the South when someone boards the train in the middle of the night and hollers, "Woooooooooooooooooooooooo-EEEE!"
On an unrelated note, why do strangers keep asking me if I'm "into drama" [theater??] or if I'm British??
And what's with people rolling up just one of their pant legs, is that like a secret symbol wimps use to identify each other or something?