Greetings! I am aboard the hell o'clock train, otherwise known as the regional Amtrak; it is my intention for the day to see how much I can sleep in the quiet car. Right now there are some very beautiful streamers and shells of cloud in the dawn-faded blue of the sky, a kind of hand-gilding light on the passing verticals of bricks and concrete. Everything is so much greener than even the last time I took this line: the trees are bursting out like summer, not just blossoming. It is not fair of me to think that the man who just took a seat diagonal of me looks like he should be walking across a stage in that grey business suit and glasses, a briefcase in one hand and a bright red umbrella in the other. Further bulletins as consciousness warrants.
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Active Entries
- 1: Every song we sing and every kind of place
- 2: In my time on earth, I said too much, but not nearly, not nearly enough
- 3: A wreck of possibilities, a volatility of stars
- 4: And there's this all-night garage and the 7-Eleven
- 5: So Krishna stole the butter, did he?
- 6: ?פֿאַר װאָס זאָל איך אײַך געבן דירה-געלט אַז די קיך איז צעבראָכן
- 7: You brought me back a lemon and you squeezed me tight
- 8: I was never there, I only read the book, I only saw the film
- 9: Here we are half-awake
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