On the train.
I feel like riding a train today, watching the world pass me by while I sit wrapped up in a jacket, clutching my bag on my lap. Maybe I’ll slouch down and lean my head against the back of the seat, watching the plants and buildings swirl past me in a messy green and brown blur. I’ll have my music streaming into my ears, my hand half in my bag, touching the smooth metal edge of my camera. I find it comforting to have my finger on it when I’m alone.
Maybe I’ll listen to Secret Stars’s “Some Sinatra,” the sweet guitar and crooning voice filling my head and spilling out onto my face. That track always makes me feel this amazing mixture of sadness and happiness. It reminds me of my roommate in NY who was friends with the band and gave me a copy of the CD; I’ve played it to death ever since. (You can listen to the track on the MySpace page.)
There’s something comforting to me about riding a train. I used to do it a lot, but haven’t had the occasion to do it lately. I guess that when I’m feeling like I want to be alone, I want to ride the train. It’s usually a solitary activity for me, and it’s always been something very enjoyable. Maybe I’ll get myself a 2 hour ticket and joyride the lightrail for a while this afternoon.
So I lied when I said mañana; ’cause our tomorrow never came…