Thought Eggplants

nov. 24-a, 2009

06:34 pm - Train Station: Purgatorio

Time, here, has stopped.

There is only the Schedule.

Announcements on a loud speaker decide where you will be tomorrow. Perhaps you will see your family, reunite after the slow dying of Autumn, nestle beside fireplaces with Egg Nog and Bing Crosby.

Its beginning to sound a lot like Xmas...heard my first holiday songs on the radio the other night. Catches me off guard, reminds me of my Abba...what is it about the season that brings him such deep joy?

Its rubbing off on me as I simultaneously become him and become Me. As awkward as that phrase was...well...this journal began as a journal, text, me and a keyboard like it was back in '96, AOL 3.0, 33.6k modems, dialups...

Chat rooms, private rooms with hackers autobotting programs to proliferate the new audio file format of the time...the "mp3".

I remember all these rooms...and here, in this station in Emeryville, I get nostalgic. And purgatory is the perfect place for nostalgia, reflection. To pause.

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I'm going to avoid images for this entry, or links, or audio, you name it, its not here. Not in this post. How long have I been writing in these Entry boxes? How many different keyboards have sent updates to this journal over the last five (+?) years?

I am full of questions, which is how you should be in Purgatory. Curious. What's next?