twent morning notes

2. 12.2013

        Awake to the thought of a humming machine in a room. It was forgotten in the run of a pleasant evening. go up one floor and turn it off. Lights off back to bed, three anti meridian yet again. 

Regular Awake, lie on. No! cannot do that, it is a mistake. Go back to sleep maybe, wake up late probably. Get up, get water, swallow the prescribed, go to bathroom. Dressed too! Wash, brush teeth, brush hair, brush loo ,with all the right brushes in each case. Performance is good today. Supposedly. Look at the clock, it is showing time to late. So hurry and find the specs, feed the meanwhile woken cat, put oh the shoes and leave for the glistening wet streets. They have put up new granite pillars at the bus stop, just the right height and colour 'to be overlooked by cyclists. And those early morning joggers. Bus in, four inmates, for minutes, four minutes time.

        Tine elapsed, got in board pay the fare. Exact fair fare. Driven dazed, leave the bus at the station

for what must be the two hundredth 'time this year. In to the cafe, stand in line for food and drink. Different girl there, so dour at this hour. Young, man with hair in gelly spikes, glistening like a wet dog's. Pheronemenal phenomenal perfume pong. No way to imagine the olfactory amputee, the especially nasal needy that he is going to try to impress with that. Chemical waves make the eyes burn, breathcatching, cause sneezing. Anti seductive, destructive, chemical warfare. Supposed to work like a chopper on women, like ax' sweet moma. Odour zo.

        Coffee batter brazen, and hoglog. These weekday early morning breakfasts. "The girl with the heels goes to that train, I follow. Platform, get on board, sit down this train is rough and unsteady today, how can that be? After his schoolwork the man opposite sleeps The train does not wobble so badly now that the whole table can be used for writing. Musbury, we have more guests, they all find seats, one sits opposite. Another pheronomenal wonder. Maybe good against the cold. No luck. Someone smelling of smoke takes the other place.There is now hardly room to write anymore. Soon the train will  stop again, change for Newfern The white lady will speakagain, maybe opera, maybe the criticism the railway company probably deserves. No ideas, faster than walking, cheaper then driving. So.

get out on the tight, right handy, movement of train. 

Find seat after long search in that excuse for a local train. Filthy look from the girl where solitude is now at an end, the white lady and the primus Principe No chat today, Monday, tired. Dazed. Dry and cold on the platform, Dry and cold waiting for the bus bus in, buy the weeks ticket. So. All on the bus are regulars, all there, no. the girls and the man in blue, the informatik grouch, are missing. Bus speeds through the dark between the motorway and the trunk road. See the tights of the sewage treatment plant, Dieters home village, and all those landmarks. Off at the terminus. admire a loader, a yellow monster loading the rubble of a demolished building into a lorry, all lights blazing, the air full of dust. 

The reactor looks good with these buildings gone. Down James F street, and clock in.

Smokers Square at the station

Room 2055.

lundi day monday.