Gee, Think.

Commuters standing on thr newark platform in the heat.

I had to take this discrete snap because these women looked like
opposites. Now I just said looked like because who knows, maybe they
have some real inner similarities when it comes to personality or
values. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, right?
Well the one on the left had all kinds of tattoos. She had then on her
arms, fingers, and feet. All over I’m sure. She was sitting by herself
at first. Who should decicde to sit down next to her at the next stop
other than miss traditional conservative style. They just looked so
didfferent. One wearing light pastels and a white belt, the other
wearing dark clothes and tattoos.
It’s a good illustration that all kinds of people ride this train and
you never know who will sit down next to you.

Do you ever wonder where the term frontrunners came from? I did but I
don’t have to wonder anymore.
It was coined to describe the small group of commuters who consistently
crowd into the first mid car compartment of the train so they can be the
first to step onto the station platform.  These guys never quit. They
don’t care to sit because sitting means they are ten minutes later for
their next train. It doesn’t matter if they are tired, there is a wall
to lean on. They are silent. Silently knowing the faces of their
fellow frontrunners. They are the morning mutes who read books or
papers and have little gadgets for distraction.

Do you ever feel boxed in, or like you don’t have enough space? Maybe
you’d like personal space of a foot or two. If that’s you, you better
think twice about the commuter trains. In rush hour these things are
packed above capacity. There’s probably no such thing as a maximum
legal capacity for a train car. Even so, there’s just slightly more
room than an airplane.
Now that’s a thought, commuting 90 minutes door to door via airline. I
wonder where that might get me. I can’t imagine it taking less than 120
mins door to door to get to an office in boston, or D.C.
Today, I’m thinking inside the box, because that’s where I’m sitting.

A man of wordly dress. This man has thirty bracelets on each arm. Each
bracelet had several dozen beads of mixed colors. He was looking
colorful. I love seeing people like him. Maybe it shows that I’m new
to the area, but I can’t help it. People looking like that are
intriguing. There’s something about a person that chooses to dress
dramatically different than the crowd.
Is it a conscious choice to stand out? Is it a reaction to the pressure
to conform? Ot is it just an outward expression of an individual mind?
I used to think that I couldn’t be original without defying conventional
style, but I was even more a slave to “judging a book by it’s cover.”
There was a time in my adolescence wheni wanted to dress differently
just to see what people would think. I even went so far as to dye my
hair a range of colors. It was deep blue for a while, which I rwally
liked. It attracted a lot of attention when it was blue, but the extra
attention grew old. There were times when I didn’t want to hear what
other people thought about my hair color. Of course I was looking for a
reaction when I first did it, but it got old.
I’ve now swung to the opposite extreme of embracing the “uniform” of the
financial district. I like the ability to slip into the crowd as just
another face. It’s not so bad to have a camoflage. It provides a
certain anonymity that allows for some precious “alone in the crowd”
time. Of course, the blue shirt is getting a bit old. I see at least
five other people wearing blue shirts when I do. It’s some kind of
unspoken dress code.
Independence, anonymity and self knowledge. It’s all on the inside.

Rusted warehouse, where have your people gone?
Who has spray painted you? Will there be ever be more deliveries to
your door? Did you close for crime? Did you lose in a time of
hardship?
What is your story Rusted Warehouse?

It’s another crowded day on the train. I’m starting my week on Tuesday
after having a relaxing Monday off. I really got to chill out. It was
so nice. The sun was warm as I stood on the front lawn playing my
guitar. I worked through a chord progression that I used to know very
well. When I started trying to remember it I only knew three of the
five chords. I kept at it and eventually they all came back to me. I
can’t quite remeber their names. I think it went E, G, A, C, A and
repeat. That could be part of “Wading In The Velvet Sea” by Phish.
Today it’s back to the city, which is not so relaxing as playing the
guitar in the sun. It is exciting though. I’m interested to see what
happened with the projects I left last week. This should be a hectic
morning. Or should I say interesting? I think I would like it to be
more interesting than hectic, but I haven’t gotten my head to that place
yet.

That’s when the supwrnova exploded, bringing choas and joy to the
world. It was thoroughly unanticipated. An unexpected tide of light
swept through newark. The sun looked like it had been switched to the
third click. Plants began to grow at astonsihing rates. Weather
patterns shifted and the peoples of the world migrated to suitable
climates en masse.
The people of earth were liberated from the 40 hour work week.
Supermarkets were replaced with groves of fruit bearing trees as the
forests surged in what had become a predominately tropical world
climate.
To be continued…

So that is an artery supplying workers to Jersey city. There’s got to be more to that place than I know. Are they famous for food? Have they mastered pizza or some other cuisine? Do they produce hip hop and have free newspapers? I’m curious.