10:03 a.m. - July 17, 2002
On conductors and sleep
Every morning I board the front of the train for the thrill of hearing the whistle blow before reaching the next station and the real-life conductor briskly asking Tickets please while he's still soft-spoken and slow, as opposed to when he reaches the rear and is efficiency and no time for small talk please, just the ticket. These are the things I enjoy the most, looking out of windows at greenery and water or the steady whir of wheels on pavement and the yellow light indicating cruise control is on. It's never been the material things that make me happy and other than books I don't want much, not the digital camera, the Bose speakers, the right shirt this week, the right shoes next week, the $200 Oakleys, the latest CD, or the best of anything, whether it's a car or food or clothing. I'm content--maybe too content I wonder, sometimes.
In other words, I'm uncool and do my own thing, though neither trendy or unique a la Kerouac or Rebel Without A Cause. I couldn't tell you what's popular right now in any category because frankly, I just don't care to know. There are so many other things in the world that need to be known and learned and studied and experienced, why bother with brand names and the latest sounds and the coolest gadget and gizmo? I see, but I choose not to internalize.
Key phrase there, I see. That's enough for me.
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I'm tired and have eye-bags and my head pounds and is fuzzy. Sleep, I need sleep.
I'm sad and frustrated and want to go into deep freeze and slow down the atoms until I can catch up.
