trainstory
so there was an interstate in arkansas. an 18 wheeler. and broken windows. a totaled car, and the two of us without so much as a scratch.
so in about 45 seconds the ozarks became unreachable unreachable. we decided they were snowed in. and there were massive bear attacks. and the white river had dried up. plus they're not really mountains anyway, just big hills.
some rearranging. a day at the lake. and we took the train to new orleans, jazz, food, spent the night, and took the 30 hour amtrack to el paso (where we hopped in a car for a trip to blue-green water, orange desert amazing beach, spanish speaking, local neighborhood, our goofy inflatable navigation boat in the clear sea mexico.)
on the train, to pass the time (which passed too quickly anyway), james and i wrote a story. quickly, about a word every one seconds, he said a word and then i said the next, so neither of us had our hands on the end of the story or even the sentence. the whole thing took about 5 or 10 minutes. here is our trainstory:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
once we went on a train. the back of the heads of the people looked like they were not real, so we sat far from them for the first half of the hour. Slowly the faces began to cease being faces, but instead began to drift from the sides of the windows. Standing to rush from the windows, we sang loudly for we wanted to try to charm the conductor. The notes were too far from us by most standards. So, instead, we stumbled back down the steps.
Water flowed from the toilets as if they could speak of mermaids' fins and didn't slow until the train began to speed past the cows that moo'd incesisantly at the train. Having thought that we were able to overcome our own shortsightedness, we silently shuffled our toes against the grain of the wheat. What were our thoughts, options, or ... fuck ...? I just began to believe that she was falling from the center of the sky, but, really, she was not at the present moment away. Rather than falling over, she had simply begun fading.
Stretching out from the car were long lightening tendrils. They reached so delicately, scorching every space in which the passengers could move. Glaring at the bayous, the alligators were squirming bashfully past moments that couldn't be grasped. And rolling through bogs of uncertainty, we finally landed on a rock. Because aweful creatures were facing us, we didn't know if we could outrun our own enemies. What were the chances of seeing something so new and unassuming that we would take our pictures using nothing? Even the children were flipping using only their arms.
Realizing nothing made nothing, and that nothing was making no sense, everyone quit trying to consume their wine. In light of this moment, we wanted to do that thing which we were not supposed to do. Frothing from the realization that everyone was going to find death, nighttime settled slowly upon the moor.
At no point did we forget that water is essential for his rage against the notion created by unseen blips, breaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkiiiinnnnnnnnngg, crashing, warping every last one. Essentially we were frolicking on past the last blade of grass beneath the wheels that carried the trains on toward somewhere. Anywhere that mattered was always at the tips of our bellies. Rolling roughly, we were tossing ourselves about in a calculated, senseless rhythm (disorder).
BOOM. ?
Were the trains spanish or really just slow?
Your mother has the face of my - dangerous - face.
Face face face past fields covered thickly with the sand of dirty hippies. You, face, reek of forced extraction, false noses, and pointed grins. But never have you smelled anything so delicatible as his knees in pants made from poison.
The final train roared through that day, hoping to wander into the pond by the end of the story.
Splash!
Yay!
so in about 45 seconds the ozarks became unreachable unreachable. we decided they were snowed in. and there were massive bear attacks. and the white river had dried up. plus they're not really mountains anyway, just big hills.
some rearranging. a day at the lake. and we took the train to new orleans, jazz, food, spent the night, and took the 30 hour amtrack to el paso (where we hopped in a car for a trip to blue-green water, orange desert amazing beach, spanish speaking, local neighborhood, our goofy inflatable navigation boat in the clear sea mexico.)
on the train, to pass the time (which passed too quickly anyway), james and i wrote a story. quickly, about a word every one seconds, he said a word and then i said the next, so neither of us had our hands on the end of the story or even the sentence. the whole thing took about 5 or 10 minutes. here is our trainstory:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
once we went on a train. the back of the heads of the people looked like they were not real, so we sat far from them for the first half of the hour. Slowly the faces began to cease being faces, but instead began to drift from the sides of the windows. Standing to rush from the windows, we sang loudly for we wanted to try to charm the conductor. The notes were too far from us by most standards. So, instead, we stumbled back down the steps.
Water flowed from the toilets as if they could speak of mermaids' fins and didn't slow until the train began to speed past the cows that moo'd incesisantly at the train. Having thought that we were able to overcome our own shortsightedness, we silently shuffled our toes against the grain of the wheat. What were our thoughts, options, or ... fuck ...? I just began to believe that she was falling from the center of the sky, but, really, she was not at the present moment away. Rather than falling over, she had simply begun fading.
Stretching out from the car were long lightening tendrils. They reached so delicately, scorching every space in which the passengers could move. Glaring at the bayous, the alligators were squirming bashfully past moments that couldn't be grasped. And rolling through bogs of uncertainty, we finally landed on a rock. Because aweful creatures were facing us, we didn't know if we could outrun our own enemies. What were the chances of seeing something so new and unassuming that we would take our pictures using nothing? Even the children were flipping using only their arms.
Realizing nothing made nothing, and that nothing was making no sense, everyone quit trying to consume their wine. In light of this moment, we wanted to do that thing which we were not supposed to do. Frothing from the realization that everyone was going to find death, nighttime settled slowly upon the moor.
At no point did we forget that water is essential for his rage against the notion created by unseen blips, breaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkiiiinnnnnnnnngg, crashing, warping every last one. Essentially we were frolicking on past the last blade of grass beneath the wheels that carried the trains on toward somewhere. Anywhere that mattered was always at the tips of our bellies. Rolling roughly, we were tossing ourselves about in a calculated, senseless rhythm (disorder).
BOOM. ?
Were the trains spanish or really just slow?
Your mother has the face of my - dangerous - face.
Face face face past fields covered thickly with the sand of dirty hippies. You, face, reek of forced extraction, false noses, and pointed grins. But never have you smelled anything so delicatible as his knees in pants made from poison.
The final train roared through that day, hoping to wander into the pond by the end of the story.
Splash!
Yay!