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fishies for one dollar
Created on 2004-05-16 23:17:47 (#3172089), last updated 2009-11-19
1,525 comments received, 955 comments posted
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666 Journal Entries, 1 Tag, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 10 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | thirdavatar |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 1985 |
| Location: | Baltimore, Maryland, United States |
BioSoul-investments in dreams of the DC metro by me
Staring out of the train window, I've blurred the trees flying by with my breath. So often have i felt that winten cures me somewhat, it cools the burning of my heart although i have never liked the cold. When i was a child i used to ride the subway. In Tokyo I'd hold my brother or sister's hand as we stepped out of the icy rain onto the stairs descending a fraction of a kilometer into the ground. As we rode in the silver tubes jetting through concrete tunnels I'd look for the spot of light marking where we would run out of earth. In a flash we experienced a moment of cold, white sunlight. That was childhood unadulterated and comfortingly mechanical.
today i'm not in Tokyo though;I'm not in India either where the train windows are fogged from dirt and the greasy handprints of mechanics and kulis. There, my mother used to swoon over cows and villages, adolescence plugged me into Jimi Hendrix and i would ignore her as an embarassment. So i will begin again, today i am on the Washington DC metro, the windows are fogged with my breath beacause we aren't in the shelter of the warm tunnels yet, we're cold pulling away from New Carrolton. I've been this way before sitting behind men with hats that had feathers in them or women with tired, swollen feet. This is the introduction to a review of my life written in the present and exclusive of all lies or dreams or hope. If a manuscript follows it won't be me, I have vowed to commit to one thing, to one promise beyond myself. This paper won't hold the investment of my soul or my life.
Staring out of the train window, I've blurred the trees flying by with my breath. So often have i felt that winten cures me somewhat, it cools the burning of my heart although i have never liked the cold. When i was a child i used to ride the subway. In Tokyo I'd hold my brother or sister's hand as we stepped out of the icy rain onto the stairs descending a fraction of a kilometer into the ground. As we rode in the silver tubes jetting through concrete tunnels I'd look for the spot of light marking where we would run out of earth. In a flash we experienced a moment of cold, white sunlight. That was childhood unadulterated and comfortingly mechanical.
today i'm not in Tokyo though;I'm not in India either where the train windows are fogged from dirt and the greasy handprints of mechanics and kulis. There, my mother used to swoon over cows and villages, adolescence plugged me into Jimi Hendrix and i would ignore her as an embarassment. So i will begin again, today i am on the Washington DC metro, the windows are fogged with my breath beacause we aren't in the shelter of the warm tunnels yet, we're cold pulling away from New Carrolton. I've been this way before sitting behind men with hats that had feathers in them or women with tired, swollen feet. This is the introduction to a review of my life written in the present and exclusive of all lies or dreams or hope. If a manuscript follows it won't be me, I have vowed to commit to one thing, to one promise beyond myself. This paper won't hold the investment of my soul or my life.
ConnectInterests (23):
adventures, animals, art, classic rock, exploring, field-trips, flowers, gardening, india, japan, literature, movies, museums, music, my friends, new people, rain-storms, religious studies, russia, stimulus, the rolling stones, trees, writing
External Services:
 | thirdavatar@livejournal.com |
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