May 21, 2012

The tranquil and existential nature of railroading is, for me, at once a leisurely reflection and an analytical study of the soul and substance of this humble, impassioned and beleaguered proletarian poet, and an amazing vehicle for observing the indescribably awesome wonder of the multi-hued climates, and the historically textured, emotionally threaded tapestries of land and sky.

In my travels, there have been valuable lessons, rousing laughs, a few close calls, and songs, so many songs, of course. But her, the one I'll never see again - I see her always in every cloud and star, selfishly relish her in the blazing heat, tenderly caress her in the biting cold, regretfully miss her as the leaves turn, wish for her with all of who I hope to once again be, as I sail into the black.

And every day, another train...

May 15, 2011

Very early this morning, I saw a flirtatiously happy and sharply-dressed young couple crossing the brightly-lit downtown street, holding each other close, their fun night out ending or maybe continuing, the soulful urban jazz beats of Manteca and Fourplay spun on late-night radio by a sirenic voice named Amparo, reminiscent of my brief fleeting nights at a dimly-lit, now-defunct jazz station in El Paso so long ago.

May 6, 2012

I just finished watching "One Day", the newest addition to my list of timeless films, songs, books, and even memories. This is a hell of a statement for what would be simply dismissed by many as just another mediocre love story, but isn't that just it? Are any of us truly so special that our life and love experiences, whether successes or failures, both pleasurable and painful, aren't really just easily dismissible stories to others but ever so much more to us, that they shape us, move us, transform us, challenge us to learn and feel, to hate and hurt then love and try again?

We are none of us unique in these regards, yet each emotion may be uniquely felt and, if we're lucky, shared. And for every vacant, worthless, seemingly endless moment of loss and despair, there's another moment of surprising, fulfilling, unexpectedly eternal joy and gain. If there wasn't, we would stop living, for our bodies are natural, our responses automatic and self-providing, and our minds could not continue if they knew this wasn't a fact of life, a reality.

I woke up this morning, and so did you. So there must be something worth living for, bad or good, as we hope for the good and learn from the bad. There must be something to this life, at once unique and common, for all of us.