I never liked riding the subway. My reasoning was that I was going to spend the rest of eternity underground so why start now? Sort of. Riding the subway just isn't sexy. When you know there are cars up above that will get you there also, from door to door, while you chat on your phone, text, or expand your social networks.... I mean, think about what happened to all the people on the lower decks of the Titanic. If the end of the world is going to start anywhere then it'll be in the NYC subway system or any LA freeway, but it better happen before the Mayans get us.
But I do sort of miss it...the things I claim to not like, the subway rides, the transformative nature of them. You go underground, slide your card through, hop on a train, minutes later you're emerge elsewhere, somewhere magically different.
Ahh, but remember that the city is a funny place,
Something like a circus or a sewer,
And just remember that different people have peculiar tastes,
Glory of love, the glory of love,
The glory of love might see you through.
- Lou Reed, "Coney Island Baby"
Maybe I should go into SF and ride the BART around for a half day. That should extinguish any silly homesickness I have for such a thing. Either that or I'd ride the subway from here all the way back to the East Village in an overnight staggering hallucinogenic haze. My triumphant return celebrated with the usual parade of local misfits. I could reclaim my dignified place as "temporary suspendee" at my favorite local bars. The mayor would give me the key bump to the city.
Ah, in a perfect world....
No, I wrote this post for my friend, P.O'Toole. He's too lazy to check on my site directly so now each post will get emailed to him somewhere up in the hills of Woodstock. They've just had the internet installed up there on Yasgur's farm. So, now he'll be in touch with the virtuals. I believe it comforts him to think I'm homesick.
So this morning, I am, but sick from a safe distance....