Water and Solitude. View From SolDock Five. There she sits, glinting in the reflected light of the nearby sun. Dry dock, Soldock Five. The Lady Jane Grey, she makes me smile with a glow of pride. Beautiful probably only to my eyes, the black and silver paint job showing all my Pagan icons and effigies. Much to the annoyance of the local Tabernacle, SolDock Five has a very vocal minority Christian workforce. Sod them if they're refusing to handle the job.
I'm getting it cheaper through some of my Buddhist connections any way, and I prefer it that way. I don't trust the god botherers to do a proper finish, I'd pay double for the Buddhist Union or Hindu Brotherhood to do the job anyway. Try Again! Homeward Bound. Various Train Based Rants. Once again caught amongst the hassled, the harassed, the homeward bound. The air fraught with tension, thick with aggression, and testosterone. Too small a train stuffed to the gunnels with too many people. The more often I travel this way, the more palatable the taste of the stress around me. I feel the stress around me, building in myself incrementally, almost by osmosis. Perspective. It occurs to me that no matter how rich, how famous, or how powerful, in the ultimate reckoning you are in fact completely unimportant. “This is a district line train to Ealing Broadway”, Crowded morning tube, Smell of suntan cream, Wafts with it, Memories of lovers lost and past, Reverie only broken by the incessant rustle of the free papers, In the tomb like quiet, Self conscious laughter, As unfamiliar proximity, Causes momentary embarrassment.
Life As A Backwards Train Journey. If you sit on the train with your back to the engine you get an entirely different perspective on the journey. You see things only as places you've been as they move away from you into the past. Of course you can see the parallel that I'm thinking of here. Much like experiences in life. We are only able to see what we have done or where we have been as though it were the train journey, a brief instance parallel, in the moment, then it slips away into the past. Objects near to us seem more immediate, objects further away more distant. The station we pass through like a fleeting acquaintance, the station we stop at a slightly more well know friend.
A town we know from the nearness of some buildings and the continuation of the suburbs, someone known well but become familiar and almost viewed with the contempt of over familiarity. Even the people we travel with are much in parallel to life. Even the activities we undertake separate us further. Though I do feel somewhat like Methuselah. Meekon5’s Music Profile. HowStuffWorks - Learn how Everything Works! Welcome to BioTech. Singularity Institute for Artificial Intelligence.