Today my new friend Celia and I embarked on an adventure to explore the territory of the infamous Mc Barge. Getting there involves a hike along the railroad. We walked along the tracks for hours and talked about things. We had a lot to talk about because we have just met each other and the scenery we chose was an excellent stimulator of concepts and theories about life wide and narrow.
I didn't expect the trains to offer us a symphony but I learned that some of them have a harmonious resonance that is breathtaking. The sound wraps around and penetrates the body. As the cars grind on, metal sounds reverberate through empty hulls like creaking ships. The shear mass and thrust demand respect as the giants shrink my fragile body into its humanness.
Is train hopping a boys only adventure? What remains of the lifestyle that Keroac wrote into a romantic fantasies? In the search for freedom, rules like: don't get crushed make for seductive simplicity. If we kept walking along the tracks, when would we stop relating to the city we left behind? Would our comparisons be only between the scent of the air in one place or another? One day I want to walk so long that the life I left behind is a story being read in my memory.
What really matters?
Maybe why we love them so much is because they are dinosaur era plant life, echoing weirdness, reflecting our state of mind. In bunches they reiterate the humbling infinity that plants have when they are using that familiar fractal logic. Think: Dandilions, Geodesic Domes.
Gigantic Dragon flies existed in pre historic times along with gigantic horsetails the size of trees.
Celia once took a dingy out to the Mc Barge. She said it looks like a ballroom inside. She said there used to be raves on it. Later on I asked my friend Johnny about it and he said he's heard of raves held there as well.
This fire in the sky is a welcomed contrast of red on blue.
Spilled grain will lure wildlife onto the tracks.
Later that evening I went home and listened to Fleetwood Mac. It was a good day.