Monday, August 30, 2010

On the Train Again...

I'm back on my regular route going back to the city. It's a 7am start, which I like better than a 7:30 because I get out a little earlier, but that also means I have to drag mein tuchas out of bed a half hour earlier too, and the snooze button is not my friend. I deliberately put my alarm clock on the other side of the room so I can't just hit the snooze, but I do it anyway, feeling myself being sucked back to the bed like a magnet. Well anyway, I did make my bus at 5:45, but I just got the last seat, and mine is the second stop. Will I get up even earlier to make the first, which is four blocks away? Possibly yes, probably no.

Oh dear how am I going to even get there? 5th Ave. and midtown... sounds like the F train with a long walk. I'm writing this with my tool backpack on my knees. That sounds like it should be a song. Now I'm sitting on the F-train with my tools between my knees... (second verse.)

All the people on the subway are fascinating, and I try not to stare. There's the woman whose giant unhappy face looks like it's glued together from giant slabs of meat, decorated with liberal amounts of lipstick and eyeliner that just can't possibly help. There's the muscular guy in bright tartan golf-shorts and sunglasses who's asleep with his arms folded across his chest looking as relaxed and comfortable as if he were sitting on his own couch in his living room. A balding woman with a lined face who has three or four shopping bags piled at her feet reading a newspaper that's falling apart in her hands and she's grabbing at the pages every few seconds without even thinking about it...

I'm at 21st St Queensbridge and every time the subway stops here I think of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere when they have to cross... um... Kingsbridge? Knightsbridge? Is the Marquis hiding somewhere? I love how watching that BBC miniseries was like watching the old Doctor Who. The story was more important than whether they had enough money for special effects.

I almost don't notice time passing when I write on the subway. Maybe that's the secret to productivity? But then time also flies when I play Nethack...

Anyway, that’s all for now.


1 comment:

Aravis said...

I had a boyfriend who set 5 clocks around his bedroom, all out of reach, set about 1 minute apart. It drove me nuts, but was effective for him.

Love the description of your fellow passengers!