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Friday, March 12, 2004

Lost for words. 

this isn’t the answer, can’t anyone tell them that?
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Beliefs anyone? 

You show me someone with beliefs, and I'll show you some one who hasn't blown up a train.

-Me

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Wednesday, March 10, 2004

Falling in love 1 floor at a time 


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Falling in love 1 floor at a time 


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Friday, March 05, 2004

Penn Station to Christopher St. Blues 

Christopher St Station$1.50 doesn't get you much now-a-days, it does however buy you a trip on the Path. Sure paying a buk and a half for a train ride into New York seems like a bargain, but believe me it takes a lot more from you than you think.

I take the train everyday to work, and everyday I sit on the train surrounded by the harsh reality of life. Here I am only sixteen days away from my 24th birthday and I find myself sitting in a train with people 2 or three times my age. I can not help but think one thing:

I hope I'm not riding this same train at the age of 50

Usually I just get a seat on the train and fall asleep until I get to Jouranl Square, there I changed trains. I get off the WTC train and find another seat on the 33rd St train. (fall asleep again) Today was different.

Even on the days that I don't manage to fall asleep I make it a point not to make eye contact or really pay attention to anyone on the train. (have you seen the weirdos that ride the path train) Today I couldn't help but notice a man that was sitting directly in front of me. His image was burned into my mind.

He must have been in his mid-fifties, he was wearing I nicely cut two button suit with a pin stripe scarf. Thru his oranged tinted sun glasses, I could see that he was all but awake. The lines on his face were deeply carved, especially the ones that portray the expression of a frown. His mustache was neatly trimmed as was his hair. He looked of middle eastern descent, the kind of man that you would see being cast to play the part of a Saudi oil billionaire. But of all the things that stand out in my memory of this man is his posture, not in the physical sense but in the emotional sense. He seemed tired and beaten, almost as if he had given in to the will of this train.

I began to ask myself a lot of questions. For how many years has this man been taking this train? How many gazes from strangers has he avoided? Did he ever sit in front of a strange old man and think the same thoughts as I did?

I stepped out of the train worried today. And the thought that I have to get back on that train today terrifies me.
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