First, I’ll tell you what this is, why you should read it and it’s really not all that, but it could be. The potentiality is certainly there, however I don’t require a readership of people hating on this, nor do I require followers and likes from said people, because it’s not my intention. I simply am a poet and writer, and I enjoy writing for the sheer pleasure it instills, but also to discover the life within, to stretch it, expand on it, and publish it. This might unsettle / upset / offend the sensibilities of some, but that cannot be avoided. In life, we often will find more than not that this is a normal residual side effect we have on others.
Who am I ? I’m just a chill city cat like it says on my about page, a guy with things to share and convey, maybe some of it might just bore you to tears, and others may brighten up your day. However it gets translated I do sincerely hope it’s for the better, and I somehow suspect it certain shall be.
Once more I decided to take up the art of the written word, online. I needed my own proverbial batcave on the web, but not really. Not to hear myself think, or think of myself talking and in what voice I could only fathom. I’m still working on my Liam Neeson voice narration app for that one.
You might wonder why you’re here, frankly I don’t know. This is for me by me, a tool of self discovery, in a weaponized form like yellow cake for the enrichment of uranium. My meaning being that it works as intended straight out of the proverbial box.
What can you expect here ? Only photos and personal thoughts, reflections, musings, pretentious quotes, and various thingies. Everything and nothing, and sometimes more than these.
Guy on the train
I took the commuter rail this morning, which entails taking the brown line from Albany Park to Belmont and then the red line to downtown, Chitown. I seldom do, and typically never the ghettolicious CTA which for sake of comparative analysis is abysmal next to Seoul or Hong Kong. A commuter experience in Hong Kong compared to CTA is like I time traveled into the future. Clean, quiet, efficient and even as crowded as it is nobodies squeezed up and pressing against me. There’s no panhandlers hitting me up for change or telling me their carefully scripted sad luck story either. I typically take the metra, pay the extra cost for how it ought to be.
I board the platform via the Kimball station, a busy station that starts the brown line. The station reminds me of my dad, as he was a mechanical engineer during his epic long career the station was one of his many projects he worked on. It bores my princely self to yonder Belmont station, also another familiar place in my timeline. I’m reminded of back in the day, the energy of Belmont avenue, and the new wave crowd I roamed in. We all lived on Belmont avenue, at the Dunken Donuts and Kokomo café. This is what you did when you were relatively youngish and well before the interwebs was birthed, you hung out and met people who went to Medusa’s.
This black guy seated nearby my seat is talking loudly. He seems to be talking to several people on his cell 📱 and annoyingly keeps saying the following : “My girlfriend threatened to press charges against me if I leave her, but she won’t if I stay…can she do that ? She says I broke her heart and everything”. The words aren’t the annoying bit actually, but the fact that he kept repeating them to multiple people like it was the funniest, cleverest thing he could whip up at that particular moment was very irritating. Whats more irksome is when some individuals just think that they’re the most interesting act in town. It must be so exhausting I think to myself : trying. Trying to continuously be the most interesting person that there is. Perhaps if people only knew how scant others thought of them, they’d be less inclined to steal other peoples attention (in a already attention deficit disorder society theft of time is like credit fraud).