If you’ve ever travelled alone, you know the rare opportunity it affords for meditation. Even though this train to Atlantic City is festive – the sounds of popping champagne come from the girls in front of me, triumphant male cheers issue from the first class cabin, and the comforting smell of Heinekin drifts through the cabin- I’ve still disengaged to watch the landscape roll by.
Naturally this hippie isn’t big into contrived entertainment served up by casinos, so I should say that I’m getting picked up by Katherine to go on to Ocean City for a quiet weekend of rainy beaches and wine at the yacht club. But even less appealing than the fluorescent plastic decorations of AC is the gristly industrial areas clinging to the New Jersey rivers that I watch flash by my window. It’s here that I can truly see humans as a ruinous parasite across earth’s service.
We’ve gouged and sliced up the earth’s flesh and left behind concrete scabs, scars still bleeding oil into the dead water, and rusty track marks like those on the arm of an addict.
BUT, even as I sadly wish those manufacturing plants had never sprung up, or those old ships wallowing like homeless people on the dirty sidewalk, I am keenly aware that I enjoy the shiny and sweet fruits of those poisonous plants (in both senses of the word). Right now I am encased in leather and plastic, slicing across Dirty Jerz, enjoying the air conditoning and sheltered from the acid rain.
Enough of my nerd talk though. I’m on to OC and a weekend with the Bastians, who could give a hoot about all of this.