Train of Consciousness

I bought a crappy book to read on the trip, Sons of Fortune by Jeffery Archer, but I got half a page in then realised I'd read it before. For some reason this bothered me, I'm not sure why, since all of Lord Archer's novels are exactly the same. ::Sigh::

To entertain myself, I've decided upon recording a sort of stream of consciousness for the trip, it probably won't make very good reading, so I won't be very offended if you stop reading now.

Things I'm experiencing right at this moment include, the nasty sunburn on my arm, my slightly itchy hat, my sore writing hand, the various scents of the train carriage passengers, the continued obnoxious convo of the girl ahead of me, the gentle (just started) rocking and acceleration of the train (I'm facing the wrong direction, damn).

I like the sound the pencil makes as it whispers across the page, it really does seem like it's enjoying a quiet conversation between itself and the paper.

My cough has finally stopped, which is a relief.

We've arrived at (and just left from) Tuggerah station. The train speakers just went "do do do", but no messages followed...that should make me nervous, I think.

I'm shaking my hand already, I'm just not cut out for writing stuff with pens or pencils. Give me a keyboard and several million dollars any day of the week...no, really.

I've got that strange feeling one gets when one actively examines one's thoughts. I can hear my thoughts whizzing through my head, and simultaneously thoughts regarding those thoughts. It's a vicious cycle, one runs the risk of overfilling one's mind, leaving nothing but noise.

Ourimbah station.

My traveling companion, whom I sat next to on the bus now sits opposite me on the train. He's paying with his mobile. I feel quite rude actually, since he sat there opposite me with the stated intention of talking to me on the voyage, but I've been doing nothing but writing. How to describe him? Well, he's tough and tattooed, burly and bearded, probably (Lisarow station) in his fifties.

Just then we discussed the fact that half the station the train stops at we've never head of, and the fact that we're traveling in a Tangara is probably (Niagra Park station) meant to appease us for the couple of extra hours on our trip.

(Narara)

I was wondering if "Keep your feet off the seats" includes the arms rests as welkl. I hope not.

My traveling companion and I just had another short exchange, this time about mobiles. He was wondering if mine be any good, I said it wasn't too bad, and that it was given to me by Nathan. He then told me that his phone, being small and liable to be dropped had lost the functionality of its speaker, reducing him to (Gosford) sms only.

I'm looking forward to getting home. Robin is cooking lentil and eggplant kokrma for dinner, so hopefully that will be good (it's the out first attempt at the dish). I've recently come to understand that this train is all-stops to Hornsby, and I'm not overly happy about the situation, I left from Cardiff station at about 1708 (fifteen minutes after the web timetable said I would), it's now 1858 and I've only just passed Gosford. I hate long train rides with no books or music.

24 starts back on telly tonight, I'm sure Robin won't want to watch it, but that's not really a problem, since he doesn't really like anything on telly, so one show's pretty much like any other...regardless I expect scorn will come my way :-) [Edit: there turned out to be very little scorn, in fact, Robin sat through the whole episode!]

I'm bringing the PS2 to Sydney tonight. Mum bought a DVD player (marked down from something like $300 to $50!), so the folks back home don't have much need of it. The PS2 will highlight (Woy Woy) our lack of amp here at home. We have great need, for the telly only had one set of RCA inputs, the rest is SCART, so an amp with multiple video inputs would be the solution.

I don't really feel like writing much more, it's a pity we don't have magical pencils which record exactly what we are thinking (maybe different colours for each stream), then when we feel up to the task, we could sit down, make some sense of what has been recorded and put it on the web. Also, since I'm wishing for a magical pencil, I probably should also wish for all the money in the world, and a pet dinosaur.

I used to wish that I could fast forward my life to all the exciting bits, as a little boy, I'd lie abed, thinking it would be great to go to sleep and wake up at Christmas, or whenever, with no apparent discontinuity, and without people saying crap like "Do you know you've been in a freakin' coma for the past five months? We didn't buy you any presents, 'cause we didn't think you'd be awake." That sort of thing would really spoil the fantasy.

I think I'm going to take a photo of my arm now, though I'm a little worried about the conversation it might generate, or that it will just make Boswell (the name I have appointed my traveling companion) think me strange. Oh well, here goes nothing.

Well, that was doubly disappointing, not only did Boswell not react, but the photos don't seem to convey the angry red of my arm at all, I'm currently feeling severely gypped.

I'm a little worried that I don't smell minty-fresh. I showered after doing yard work at the Stacey's but I couldn't be arsed digging through my bag for my deodorant, which was probably a mistake. C'est la vie, I guess.

We (Robin and I) still haven't decided upon a suitable domain name for inside the apartment. We like the idea of somehow mentioning Iced Tea, such as 'teahouse.org', but it shouldn't be the only thing mentioned...

Wowsers! I just had an idea, we should develop an acronym for out domain name, including bachelordom, the pad, tea (Iced), level eight (our apartment level) and other such relevant details...L.E.B.P.I.T., lebpit, level eight bachelor pad (of) iced tea. I'll present the idea to Robin when I get home.

Well, two very exciting things just happened, three if you count boring things. Number one, we just passed Berowra station (didn't stop, also good); number two, Boswell just donned a grey t-shirt; three, the guy who before was making disgusting noises is now humming/singing to himself, much to Boswell's amused consternation (such a state does exist).

While writing that last paragraph, I also wrote down two words, 'boon' and 'leg-stroke'. They both refer to Boswell, The first, 'boon' refers to one of our early exchanges. He mentioned that the current train issues would be a 'boon to the bussing industry', and for some reason, the word 'boon' really caught my attention. The second, 'leg-stroke' describes one of Boswell's unconscious behaviors, his tendency to stroke his leg up and down for minutes at a time. I'm sure he's unaware of himself doing it most of the time, in fact, as I looked across at him then he was repeating the behavior with his mobile phone (mopho) in place of his leg. I see Westfield Hornsby out the window, homeness is at hand.

Edit: The train got in to Hornsby station at 7.36pm, which means it wasn't that long after all...