G Train Drama Part II (Nada)

Today wasn't that interesting.  Same stop, but no eye contact.  Me reading newspaper.  She walking past me.  Ho, hum.  Perhaps this will be the last post in this short lived series.  

Townes Van Zandt

Townes.  I don't know who in this world can write songs, living or dead, as he could.  My faithful readers, of which there are few, I know.  I am getting divorced.  This man has gone through so much shit and kept on going until he really couldn't.  He is the equivalent of a song sampled by a million hip hop boys.  Tons copied him.  He was an original, wrote about life in a way that nobody could really do as well.   Simply unmistakable.  Moreso, I hear him and he gives me this odd hope.  Most of us are not TVZ and that is a blessing.  On the other hand, if we were TVZ without the afflictions, we would be able to say whatever we wanted.

G Train Drama PartI

I have been having days where I made eye contact with a librarian-esque girl on the Greatest train in the world.  It had been eye contact only until this week.  On Thursday, she sat next to me.  On Friday she sat across from me.  I read Mussina articles very closely on both days and "forgot" to look her way.  On Thursday the train was wide open.  It would have been so easy to talk to her.  Orange seats abound, many places to stand and look, she smelled nice.  More to come on Monday, I hope......

What should I do?  7:30-ish every day?

Blowin' in the Wind

There are not nights like this that often.  There are not times, when you are down and out, such as I am, where something happens and makes you think anew about things.  There is very little belief in the idea of change most of the time, i.e., the wife beater, or better yet the wife beating alcoholic.  

Yet, what happened today is profound.  Perhaps it isn't even that profound if its context weren't what it was.  The Bush years have been tough to endure.  And, such an end to them in such a historic way makes those years feel like roots deeply sown into the earth.  Those roots must hurt as they bend and pull and tear through the soil as they become real saplings.  It has got to fucking hurt!  

So, here we are little tree of 300,000,000 people.  

LATE NIGHT

And so it is Novenber the 1st.  It is late/early, depending on who you ask.  Murph is outside, smelling, sniffing whatever he does.  I am full of snot.  Full of whiskey from Scotland, full of shit.  I am that guy who stays up all night and takes his antibiotics.  I am that guy who .......

Who am I?