It’s not like I take a lot of time editing my posts; it’s not like I have a lot of time to edit posts. So…it’s not like I post nearly as much around here any more.
But I still carry journals around in my various bags and purses. I write in them. As things occur to me, with no editing.
This is what happens:
14 Feb 2011
On the early afternoon train, and I am attracting seat mates like strays. A new one at every station. While, between stations, dogs who have their owners are watching wistfully as the train cuts through the sheets of rain as it staggers along the rusting tracks.
(I can only assume the tracks are rusting. Everything rusts here – even the moss on the side of every buildings’ balconies has a rust tine under the street-lit cloud cover.)
I forgot to tune out today when I boarded. I have no daily newspaper. No ear buds. No book. No phone. I am left to my own stray seat mates: the man-convo n front of me debating the merits of over-priced grocery chains, the medical history of the elderly behind me, the giggling of a discussion that flirts with the suggestion of new love.
Or is that lust?
It is St. Valentine’s Day. Yet not one of my fellow commuters carries flowers to or from another. But it’s early. They have time.
If they have inclination to continue through the rain.
Um, yeah. Apparently, stream-of-conscious-me is prone to alliteration, horrible punctuation and randomness.
So, I took a book on the train today to keep me amused and out of random writing.