The train pulled into the small station slowly and almost looking tired and jaded. John wondered how would a train feel, if it had any feelings that is, always going through the same tracks, day after day, picking up all these people who don’t look very happy at all. It would be depressing John thought. Maybe the train companies had to set up some sort of train shrink or whatever.
Anyway, 6:30 AM in New Jersey, heading to New York. Another day, another dollar, or so they say.
John entered the train and he did what he usually did: assess the surroundings. Long time ago his aikido sensei told him that one has to be always ready, awake and aware of what surrounds him. And since his youth plans of turning into this macho man running around the streets protecting the defenceless and saving young damsels in distress never came to be, he had no other place to practice his highly martial skills than in the train.
He scanned the carriage trying to find a seat, preferably not near any bum, fat people (damn these narrow seats), crying babies or nosy old hags that wouldn’t shut up even if their life depended on that.
Awkwardly, there were lots of seats empty, and he was happy with that. He sat next to a window and felt at ease, letting himself go in the barren wasteland that the window now showed him. He averted his eyes with a sigh.
The train was just restarting his way and John was surprised not having noticed it had stopped in the next station. Yeah the human auto-pilot must've kicked in.
A woman carrying lots of shopping bags approached him and sat next to him. Typical. With so many seats available this old hag had to choose the closest one even though she would go more comfortable a few seats further. And what in God’s name is someone doing with so god damned bags, shopping bags, at 6:30 AM? (It was actually 6:50 AM, but John didn’t know that because his watch had stopped. But he will find that out soon).
He grabbed his book and turned on his discman, pumping up the volume of Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” to avoid the screaming child that also entered the train with is too indulgent mother.
He went through Thoreau’s “Walden, Or Life On The Woods”, dwelling on the feeling of utter loneliness the book exhaled and thinking how it would be to live in such extreme conditions, with no one around.
Deep into his book, and deprived of any external sound by his music, away from a carriage with so many people, he suddenly realized that he was, in a way, living isolated from the outside world.
He looked to the half filled carriage and suddenly noticed that a lot of people there were also hanging to their own mp3 readers, books, newspapers, the floor or the window…..hardly anyone was actually in contact. Lonely people in a lonely World.
John felt that he, and all of the others, had built some sort of wall, or better yet, a castle around themselves. Something that it was hard to overcame…both to the people outside and the person inside. It isolated them from one another.
It's weird, he thought, that the more lonely people are, and the more they felt sad because of it, the more they made their loneliness bigger, with all the gadgets, and what not, that this World made available. "All the lonely people, where do they all belong?" indeed, like Macca used to sing. Well, they sure don't seem to belong anywhere special. People talk about the dangers of Globalization, and even rally and demonstrate against it, but no one seemed to think about the ever growing Individuality that was spreading in each and every soul. John cringed a bit because he recognized that he too was a bit taken by it...but he struggled, he wanted something different. But those damn castle walls were a real tough nut to crack! Not that he was any better than the rest...but still...damn World.
Everyone nowadays appears to be over-conscious of themselves. Only the "I" and the "Me" seem to survive. Each and everyone seems to worry mainly about their own rights, desires and ambitions. Not a case of egotistical behaviour though. Maybe some kind of screwed up priorities.
Anyway, 6:30 AM in New Jersey, heading to New York. Another day, another dollar, or so they say.
John entered the train and he did what he usually did: assess the surroundings. Long time ago his aikido sensei told him that one has to be always ready, awake and aware of what surrounds him. And since his youth plans of turning into this macho man running around the streets protecting the defenceless and saving young damsels in distress never came to be, he had no other place to practice his highly martial skills than in the train.
He scanned the carriage trying to find a seat, preferably not near any bum, fat people (damn these narrow seats), crying babies or nosy old hags that wouldn’t shut up even if their life depended on that.
Awkwardly, there were lots of seats empty, and he was happy with that. He sat next to a window and felt at ease, letting himself go in the barren wasteland that the window now showed him. He averted his eyes with a sigh.
The train was just restarting his way and John was surprised not having noticed it had stopped in the next station. Yeah the human auto-pilot must've kicked in.
A woman carrying lots of shopping bags approached him and sat next to him. Typical. With so many seats available this old hag had to choose the closest one even though she would go more comfortable a few seats further. And what in God’s name is someone doing with so god damned bags, shopping bags, at 6:30 AM? (It was actually 6:50 AM, but John didn’t know that because his watch had stopped. But he will find that out soon).
He grabbed his book and turned on his discman, pumping up the volume of Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” to avoid the screaming child that also entered the train with is too indulgent mother.
He went through Thoreau’s “Walden, Or Life On The Woods”, dwelling on the feeling of utter loneliness the book exhaled and thinking how it would be to live in such extreme conditions, with no one around.
Deep into his book, and deprived of any external sound by his music, away from a carriage with so many people, he suddenly realized that he was, in a way, living isolated from the outside world.
He looked to the half filled carriage and suddenly noticed that a lot of people there were also hanging to their own mp3 readers, books, newspapers, the floor or the window…..hardly anyone was actually in contact. Lonely people in a lonely World.
John felt that he, and all of the others, had built some sort of wall, or better yet, a castle around themselves. Something that it was hard to overcame…both to the people outside and the person inside. It isolated them from one another.
It's weird, he thought, that the more lonely people are, and the more they felt sad because of it, the more they made their loneliness bigger, with all the gadgets, and what not, that this World made available. "All the lonely people, where do they all belong?" indeed, like Macca used to sing. Well, they sure don't seem to belong anywhere special. People talk about the dangers of Globalization, and even rally and demonstrate against it, but no one seemed to think about the ever growing Individuality that was spreading in each and every soul. John cringed a bit because he recognized that he too was a bit taken by it...but he struggled, he wanted something different. But those damn castle walls were a real tough nut to crack! Not that he was any better than the rest...but still...damn World.
Everyone nowadays appears to be over-conscious of themselves. Only the "I" and the "Me" seem to survive. Each and everyone seems to worry mainly about their own rights, desires and ambitions. Not a case of egotistical behaviour though. Maybe some kind of screwed up priorities.
Everyone tried hard to preserve their "I's" and "Me's" and just be different than everyone else. Everyone tried hard to escape the herd, but the harder they tried, the same they all look.
No wonder unhappiness roamed the land. Who will take the first step and get out of this god forsaken train ride?
Gunther Dünn
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1 comentário:
Great stuff!
Can't find this writer in the internet damn!
David.
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