on the days when i am not reading i watch the scenery pass me on the train. every day it is the same but the aspect different depending on where I sit on the train. as i catch fleeting glimpses of the country side i create brief little stories to go with the images as they pass, or i simply think hmmm…
today the snippets i catch: a doghouse with a big metal bar attached to it in a neglected yard that is a mix of concrete and scraggly grass;stairs that lead from a roadway above down to the side of the busy highway, presumably to a sidewalk, that isn’t there; the point of the sign thanking everybody of the new condo development for…. buying there? the neighbourhood for simply being there? the quaint shopping centre that is never busy, but the only obvious stores around that i can see.
i can imagine myself somewhere exotic or compelling, as i often do when traveling on a train, even if the destination of this trip is not glamorous, i can remove myself for awhile. it’s always been that way with me and trains.
today is one of those i'm scrounging for work when normally i'm trying to figure out to way to cram all that i need to do into the day. is this the working condundrum.? when it rains it pours and there’s seldom a drought. i'm happy for the money, even though it isn't exactly making me rich. if i had the imagination and the will perhaps i could figure a way to work from home and make it pay. because, i could think of any number of places I’d rather be right now, namely home and bed. insomnia is my friend again.