The following Sunday, the same place. The same unusual secret train service over the hill to get here. It even arrives at the hidden forgotten platform. I’ve heard in tedious online railway circles that train drivers are not certain they are allowed to drive trains in or out of it. That may not be true, but it makes for a good anecdote, so the truthfulness doesn’t matter.
I did a job application today, that’s a bit like constructive lying really. It’s based on facts but uses imagination too; portraying a glossy magazine image of oneself. It isn’t for me, long term, this ambitious achieving way of living. I still have a dream of going somewhere new, living free, or free-er, low impact, off-grid, time for quietness, peace, animals. There is a group of people in front of me, they look like they’re on their way home from a festival, baggy comfortable clothes, a tired, timeless carefree vibe. This place attracts the transient people, and makes me want to travel. Their baggage is slightly smart though, so maybe they are middle class home counties wealthy hippies, like that man from Mumford and Son, and the Brewdog CEO. All more trickery and fakeness. The Asian looking guy is the most attractive, thick black hair, a large yet comfortable rounded nose, if such a thing can exist. Baggy tracksuit bottoms, a tattoo around the stomach region. His stomach is paler than his face and arms. I like how dark skinned people tan.
I need to buy more clothes, probably just loose fitting black things for simplicity, tee shirts, joggers, hoodies. Someone who makes videos on youtube about simplicity, stoicism and minimalism principles for like talks about looking slightly poor, tatty and average, and those are the only clothes he wears. That’s what I should aim at.
Last week I finished reading Hanover Square by Patrick Hamilton, speaking of ordinary drabness. I haven’t started reading anything new yet. I have Cannary Row by John Steinbeck in my bag. Slim, slang, more dropouts, escapism. Role models, people I would like to be around. Time and places I would like to live in. People don’t know how to be bohemian any more. Nostalgia tempting us with it’s tricks again, tempting us with emotions out of reach.
I’ve had overwhelming waves of tiredness lately. Right now I’m embracing it, it fits with the transient place, the transient state. I have a week ahead of me with little planned and headspace for thought, silence, music, nature, photography. My mind might clear and start to return to normal. I wonder what normal is for me now.
As an aside, I just used the public lavatory at the railway station. It was like stepping into an art deco hotel lounge, full of rent boys, mirrors, opulent tiling and bright lights. An unexpected sensory overload, quite exhilarating. Why were people just lingering?
Andrew Stevenson 