Fade

The year goes to bed

Drifting, drowning, black, bleak, down

And dreams the future

I have to say, some days are definitely better than others. Today falls into an "others" category. I am excited for it to come to a close. It's tempting to go straight to bed upon arrival home, but feel merriment at my neighbor's hands are just what the doctor ordered.

Sparse

Very few people are on board this train. Everyone has their own double seat and is either reading a book, drinking coffee, or writing a about people reading books and drinking coffee.

It's the very last day of the year. It's Tuesday. The Park'n'Ride lot was nearly empty. I will have a bagel for breakfast and likely Thai for lunch. I will get home, and more than probably dig into the face and neck region of a bottle of something I plan to drink sweet love to most of the night. 

Neighbors will make me laugh, and  my liquor will keep me warm, and the two combined will have me forgetting the wailing of my heart in the other room, which I tucked into bed earlier because it's already punch drunk in love.

Towards

As I march toward the end of the year, I think back over all that happened these last twelve months. I remember surviving a crazy situation right before Christmas, learning of a new condition known as piriformis, discovering a new definition of real pain, and thinking 2013 was going to be a terrible year. Considering 13 is my favorite number, I wondered why that might be so.

As it turns out, I just had to be patient. I met new friends, discovered trivia, traveled to Nashville for work, and met all sorts of interesting people. 

The last four months of 2013 have turned into the best of my life, and looking at 2014, these will pale in comparison to the happiness ahead. Just goes to show you that how a year begins is not always how it ends. 

I'm trying not to look around because everyone on the train is yawning. Yawning constantly. It's unreasonable! Stop it people: Don't you know it's contagious?

Blur

When you don't focus on anything as the train scrapes down the tracks, every light becomes a tracer. Even your own reflection in the window is a brown-green smudged silhouette; a ghastly cameo.

Not many people on this train but a few reading and others looking out the window while listening to their headphones.

"Poets gone wild on their muse, prophets are destroying their Tao," is wailed into my ears. It's like everyone is doing as told: go to school, get a job, produce, reproduce, consume.

"The secret dance of snakes the tales of it all," he continues. Nobody knows why we do any of this but it is the way it is done. It feels as if there is a controlling force out there laughing, laughing, laughing.

"We are the cause of a world that's gone wrong," basically covers it. Thanks Serj for the poignant lyrics.

Happy Friday: the holiday anthem of the chained.

Relative

Hearing someone extol their "life saving" $100 Christmas bonus makes me a little more grateful for my education and career choices. I remember being there, but now I just don't know... 

The problem is that the wage slavery continues at a higher level. The concept of "they pay you because they are killing you," is very true. 

I won't be happy until it am my own boss.

Aging

The older we get, the less time we spend looking for and giving a shit about finding this elusive monster known as Love. The one with the capital L. Early on we hear songs and see movies that show us that a big fantastical fairy tale just sometimes happens when we least expect it. It's just sunshine and unicorns and violin music all the time.

At some point we call horseshit on all of it and realize what we are looking for is that best friend with whom we can be intimate, connected and secretive. We want a significant other to share and laugh and enjoy life, and also be there for us in our weaker or broken times as well.

What happens when both occurs? 

Bleak

There aren't many people on this morning train. Well, maybe half the usual, so there are still quite a few.  But everyone looks tired, and as though all the red Merry has been drained out of them. 

I have a gift bag with me, but it's just a decorative lunch and a few mandarin oranges for munching at work. So my festivities are for my stomach.

I want to go back to bed. Lots. I hope my clients are all out of the office today. I can't brain today, I have "the dumb."

Into

Faux weekend ahead. I can't wait. I plan to spend it poorly probably. Thankfully I caught an airport train heading into the suburbs filled with big luggage and worn travelers. 

One seat left across from me, and an old lady and young girl eyed it at the same time. Credit the young weary dad who blocked his seven year old from sitting down, who in run blocked the nine year old. 

Once seats opened up, the three of them crammed into two seats and he pulled out three books and said, "and now we read!"

He looks 26 at most, and I like this guy. 

Story

'Twas the night before the night before Christmas, 

and all through the train, 

Not a person was conscious,

"Being Monday" to blame.

The people sat down 

With their bags and their books

And nary concern 

For ther hygiene or looks.

And with me I have 

Both my laptop and cane

And the guy to my right 

Looks both tired and insane.

The fare checker is walking

The length of the car,

Giving gifts of a fine

If your payment's subpar.

And I hope that today

Goes by quickly with haste

For at home I have whiskey

That's going to waste.

Now here ends the story 

As my stop's coming near,

Merry Christmas to all

And a Happy New Year.

Ribbed

Nike is selling jackets these days that look like a cross between a ribbed condom and a garbage bag. It's sort of an odd fashion, and one I can't seem to wrap my head around. It seems however to be something that creates bonding. Three folks just became friends because they all have a similar coat.

"Wow, I didn't know Nike Trash Prophylactics came in highlighter yellow!"

The man standing next to me is severely unwashed and unkempt. So much sweat. So much ass. I would give up my sense of smell right now if I could, but that wouldn't be enough because on some levels I can also taste it.

And two girls about 19/20 years old are discussing how the "dude" they marry someday they hope is some 50/50 race because it's "so cool." And she hopes he will show up in a year or two because that would be "so convenient."

I want to vomit more for that thought than the smell.

Obvious

Dude, really? We get it. In fact, all red-blooded men on this train get it: she is attractive. Glance and look away. She is still a person. She is poorly dressed for this cold weather, and has nice bits, but you pretty much are puttin the "creep" in "creeper."

You haven't just mentally undressed her, you are doing far far worse in your head. I can tell the way your eyes are locked on her waist and the tip of your tongue is slightly poking through your front teeth.

Glance and look away.  Jeez. I bet the stop she just got off want even hers; but just the closest place you weren't.

I need a shower now.

Sparse

There often is a magic train mid-rush hour that can happen between 4-5PM. This train has very few people on it and lots of open seating. The seat I am in is a nice open seat with lots of room which was previously occupied by a college kid's backpack. I asked to sit and he quickly transferred his satchel to the ground.

He is reading, "Bruiser," by Neal Shusterman. It really is a good book, and I ask him what he thinks so far. He says it's pretty good. He is probably on chapter four. I tell him, "just wait.. "

He smiles and says thanks. 

He doesn't know that he may look for me later to retract that "thanks." But I'll let him figure that out.

Secret

One thing I have repeatedly complained about is the overuse and varieties of perfumes and colognes on board the train. Mornings are unique to this typically since most people have faded into a post-work funk by afternoon. 

This morning is a little different because there still is the cloud of flowers and musk, but there are a few secret smells mixed in. Among these front-staring folks heading into town are some troubled people. The lady next to me has three distinct scents: a vague floral smell, the sweet cherry menthol of a cough drop, and the vinegar-sweat smell of an entire bottle of wine. She looks flush, but it's not from the cold. 

I want to tell her she isn't fooling anybody with the cough drop, but it's none of my business. That lossenge is her veil, and while we both can see through it, it's still rude to ask who died.

Comparison

This is a train of couples right now. A bit beyond rush hour it feels as though everyone has paired off, and I am here the vulgar spectator.

So I compare who may have the best relationship. Is it the couple making out, obviously in the throes of a brand new relationship? Is it the couple probably in year five when it starts to get challenging.. Sitting next to each other; he is texting and she is listening to her iPod I wouldn't know they are together if her purse wasn't on his lap as she reached for something in her backpack. He seemed unphased by it but couldn't be bothered.

I think the most telling one - the one that I am jealous most of - is the old couple sitting together, they are holding hands and she is leaning towards him slightly. Every now and then they exchange looks and smile. I know they are speaking through their fingers.

Chivalry

I get on a busy train and there are two people sitting in the spot for seniors and people with disabilities: a 23 year old on his phone and a 60+ Asian woman.

He looks up, looks at my cane, looks back at his phone. 

She looks up, looks at me, looks at him, back at me, an pops up spryly and beckons me to her seat. 

I refuse. She has earned it and doesn't know the cane right now is only precautionary in case I tweak it. 

You want to talk about a woman who doesn't take "No" for an answer? Holy crap.. I'm practically shoved into the seat by her all the while I am mumbling, "thank you," in my dazed state.

She says nothing to the young man who is still on his phone beside me. Every now and then I see her look over at the top of his bowed head. I can only see pity for his lack of good raising. She doesn't blame him so much as she does his parents, it seems.

I locked eyes with her and nodded to her and smiled. She smiled broadly back at me.

Control

I wonder if there is some sort of subliminal messaging going on through all smart phones in order to create a docile and controlled population. Just a quick imperceptible order almost like a Manchurian Candidate is all it might take to keep us all sedated and staring at our mobile devices.

Blink: obey

Blink: produce

Blink: consume 

Blink: procreate

I am not sure what scares me more though, the fact that it is possible, or the fact that all this happens without the control.

Beats

Music is so varied. Different genres appeal to people on myriad levels. It's great also that we are given tiny devices that allow us to pump whatever love song or generation rage song we are currently digging directly, and privately, into our ears. 

They also sell a variety of headphones at DollarTree. They have on-the-ear, ear buds, in-ear, and clip-on styles in all sorts of fun colors. For one dollar!

The reason I feel a need to mention all of this is because you feel this need to serenade the entire train at 6 AM with the worst, trite gangsta rap I've ever heard. And I'm not even hearing all of it, because the little internal speaker only gives us like the 2000-11KHz range.  So stop it!!!

Also, sitting between two guys reading the bible. One is reading Mark 3:9, the other Corinthians. Would love to hear them argue their interpretations. Would be like nerds arguing Harry Potter.

Yogabootie

It's chilly, almost cold, and I am surprised so many people dress inappropriately when out and about.

A coworker told me the other day about a guy on his bus wearing jean shorty short shorts: the nuthugger types that leave very little to the imagination. This happened when it was a 15° morning.

And right now, a girl right in front of me wearing leggings tucked into tall gray boots and a micro-spaghetti tank top. That's it. It's 40° outside. She must be freezing her chitlins off.

Wabbits

I almost can't see. The old spiked-blonde lady is wearing a perfume that could strip paint with ease, and she is wearing enough of it to recreate the Jonestown massacre on this train.

I want to ask her what scent it is because it is my right to know the cause of my murder.

In other news, I believe in my heart of hearts that Prohibition was repealed because of a phenomenon known as, "Monday."

I'm also being smooshed into the window. This young lady next to me seems nice, but is slowly smashing me. She is reading a Cosmo magazine and drifting to her left. Waaaaaa help!

Canes

The area on the train set aside for the disabled is filled by people with canes. Me and six others all wielding weapons of curled doom. Little rubber ferrules of death. I half expect an epic fight to breakout Jason Statham-style with lots of bashed crotches and broken elbows. 

Sometimes I like crazy people. They talk to the air as if anyone was listening. We a hear, but are not listening. She likes peoples jackets and hairstyles, she has a migraine, and is on her way to see her payee to get money. She thinks she has food poisoning.. which is about when I jammed my headphones into my ears, with extra thumb pressure. She is too disjointed to be interesting. 

Rude

Only an insane person loves early Monday mornings. Yes we all love sitting down on the train because it is halfway between standing and lying.

But for you to gruff and grouse over the lady who has two grocery bags full of toys she is donating sitting on a seat next to her, makes you the rude person and not her. 

The contents of her bags will bring more happiness to more lives than you probably ever have or ever will. They deserve that seat way more than you.

That burning sensation you may be feeling is the stares of disbelief and disdain from just about everyone around you. 

Audience

There was an older lady, not elderly, but probably mid-60s sitting next to me having a conversation about various things.

As we passed by it, she remarked how she forgot they had opened a City Target downtown, and also how each time the doors open the cold blustery wind chilled her after she just got 'friggin' warmed back up. 

Her fibromyalgia is back, so her joints and muscles ache in this weather. She really hopes her daughter comes and sees her for the holidays as it's been a while. Finally, she mentions how her little dog loves the snow but hates to wear her little blue sweater she spent so much time knitting.

When we entered the tunnel I notice she has no phone, and nobody else is near her. I had inadvertently been the best listener ever as I realize she has been talking to me this whole time. I said the first thing that came to mind:

"Maybe you should have made a pink one."

Lit

There's a woman reading a bible this morning. A tattered onion-skin page version all dog earred and with little memo stickies popping out to save her favorite passages. Makes me wonder what her favorite guilt is. She closed the book and her eyes and just hugged it to her chest. I am partly jealous because I have nothing that important in my life. I can tell she would die for her book.

Beside me is a kid with a gold watch and a crucifix tattooed on his wrist. His phone's screen is shattered beyond recovery and he is still using it. It strange that he can. 

Beside him is a woman in medical scrubs rapidly chowing down on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She is eating so fast, she can't possibly taste it as it has to be jumping her tongue going teeth to throat.

Non

Tonight there's no post.

People are being people.

I'm taking a nap.

Ooze

It's a very chilly, clear morning. So one tends to wear articles of clothing perhaps that offer more warmth. This can take the form of a thick wool coat, a scarf, or the flannel Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajama pants. 

Wait what?

Now you might think this would be seen on someone who may be marginally employed, or a few screws loose. This guy has a laptop case and looks to be heading work. I love this.

Diet

The guy next to me is also disabled. His disability however I think is the inability to not hork down high octane junk food into his jiggling jowls. I am being smashed against the window by him. I'm becoming more dense. Should I die from the pressure, be sure to harvest my organs because they are surely compressed to gemstones by now. 

Give my diamond guts to my family and friends. Everything but my large diamond heart, which will come out brilliant and about 225 carats. Present that to my mother. She deserves it.

Ugh.. Ow.. And to top it off he is playing Candy Crush on this phone. Oh the irony...

Invention

Without headphones I likely would be in jail. Allow me to explain. Loud babies who want a number of things in a specific way, but are unable to articulate it, are the worst brain puzzle ever. This mom had to figure out that her screaming demon wanted out of her carrier, without one mitten on, and that mittenless snack-hand shoved into a bag of pretzels.

Like a tiny terrorist, if any of those demands were not met, she would lay waste to the ears of the train with the most god awful shrieks. 

Thankfully it only took two stops for the mom to babyhack and found the right combination. Now the little ball of evil is sitting with a happy tear-streaked face; a pretzel stick protruding from her mouth like a victory cigarette.

I wonder if this strategy would work for me around review time. If I don't get the pay raise and bonus I want, I'll scream and shit my pants right there in conference room 42.

Pen

So a street kid of 28 or 29 was riding here, sitting with a box of Hershey's chocolates, presumably selling them for whatever cause. He was holding a Starbucks hot chocolate between his knees as he adjusted his big backpack bundle of belongings, and smooshed the cup spilling 16 ounces of cocoa down his leg, and onto the floor. The channeled rubber floor just drained it down the length of the train; sticky for everyone.

He stood up embarrassed and tried to mop up the spill with some of his candy order sheets. We apparently reached his stop, because before he got off he said, "if any of you are going to the suburbs, please warn them of my spill."

This is a half-hearted play at immortality if I ever saw one.

As another guy departed the train he complimented my cane telling me it was a, "very nice bit of blackthorne you have there."

I said thank you. Just because I occasionally need to carry one, doesn't mean I can't be fashionable.

Scant

There is nothing to write about. There are maybe 12 people on this entire train right now. Most are still asleep. 

I thought it might be snowing, but I was wrong. It was just cold. I woke up 30 seconds before my alarm, so I woke up rested, only to be startled to hell and back.

Spoke too soon:

Those pants replete with hooks and hoops are being worn by: what appears to be approximately a bald 55-60 year old "punk" man with bright Kool-aid-red eyebrows, and many faded light blue-green tattoos. Perhaps an original Ramones fan? He is jamming out to something and is my favorite person of the day so far.

Light

Oddly, not many people on the train right now. Perhaps many took Monday off as an extended vacation? I do not know for sure, but it's nice to have the leg room. 

Not much going on here:

Young couple making out, she is obviously way better at it than he is. His technique is sloppy and clumsy. Hers is practiced with a devil's grace. He is in trouble, but the good kind he will remember for a long while after she moves on.

Behind me, a thug is shaking his chocolate milk by smacking the bottom of the bottle with his palm. Loudly. For the last 10 minutes. Like, "Dude, your Quik is mixed. It's an aerated smoothie at this point." Gangsta milk. 

The lady in front of me has amazingly colorful luggage. I love it. 

Mothers

Millions of new disabled are created every day. All they need to do is pump out a unit. Apparently being a mom with a stroller qualifies you to take up all the seats reserved for seniors and people with disabilities. There are four of them. 

There is some science on your side here. Studies show that becoming a parent drops your overall IQ by a number of points, likely pushing you onto the uphill side of the bell curve into double-digit land.

This effect is exacerbated with more children.

It is, however, important that I point out that your resultant condition, and apparent inability to operate birth control, are not what the happy train people mean by disability.

In other news, the person next to me has a clear Tupperware bottle of what looks like a purple-brown paste. It's nauseating to watch her take sips from its huge boba-like straw. I'm assuming it's delicious because.. it has to be. It looks like she is drinking Vegemite.

Also: funny watching a woman with three (3) very large purses try to get comfortable. I should be videoing this, or at least playing Yaketty Sax music.