Reading on the train
Apr. 30th, 2005 11:38 amThere’s something romantic about the strange, headlong, rollicking motion of a train. You’re tearing across open farmland, and it feels like one slight jolt might shake your mind off the wave of inertia and leave it irretrievably behind, wandering through nameless wheat fields, or along a small, forsaken rural boarding platform where only ghosts await passage.
Along the line from Windsor to London yesterday, woodlands came crowding over the landscape to meet the train, bearing the first lusty chartreuse blush of life. Wild cherries in bridal white skittered like startled virgins beyond the uplifted interstices of dark-branched panes. Then the car would burst into open landscape again, where countless red-winged blackbirds mounted from fence rails, dark cherubim heralding the return of passion and property. Their lusty cries echoed out of memory through the sliding, shuddering window.
I was reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, but felt my attention divided between page and passage, afraid that I might lose a thread of meaning from either story. Or perhaps, with the crowd of images passing my eyes, take either one too seriously. Wilde barrages the mind with wisdom and delusions of wisdom. One must remain vigilant to the vernal bloom of irony.
Along the line from Windsor to London yesterday, woodlands came crowding over the landscape to meet the train, bearing the first lusty chartreuse blush of life. Wild cherries in bridal white skittered like startled virgins beyond the uplifted interstices of dark-branched panes. Then the car would burst into open landscape again, where countless red-winged blackbirds mounted from fence rails, dark cherubim heralding the return of passion and property. Their lusty cries echoed out of memory through the sliding, shuddering window.
I was reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, but felt my attention divided between page and passage, afraid that I might lose a thread of meaning from either story. Or perhaps, with the crowd of images passing my eyes, take either one too seriously. Wilde barrages the mind with wisdom and delusions of wisdom. One must remain vigilant to the vernal bloom of irony.
Gratuitous Icon Comment
Date: 2005-04-30 04:04 pm (UTC)Crazy(and a fan of trains)Soph
Re: Gratuitous Icon Comment
Date: 2005-04-30 04:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 04:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 04:20 pm (UTC)train rides are on my top ten most mist things list
some of the adventures on trains well they changed my life
from getting lost on a friday night in some small town wandering into a party being the escorts for a young lady seeing her home safely, don't even remember her name, to the solitude often found in the rocking rolling movement from one area one companion to the next
to the afternoon spent with one of my all time favorites companions (young) with a loaf of bread some great cheese and mile after mile of lovely swedish country side. really lovely images you share Van
be well
no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-03 01:06 am (UTC)taking a train to a remote town, being let off at the station which is usually near the town square, and wandering around the city, really great adventures.
one day you'll experience it and when that day comes I hope you journal about it and take pics.
be well
no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 04:23 pm (UTC)ps. "vigilant to to the vernal bloom of irony" = wonderful line...
no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 10:23 pm (UTC)I finished the book this afternoon and found it somewhat perplexing. I'm surprised that Oscar seemed to consider sensuality such a moral quagmire, but perhaps I don't understand the story well enough. It was not Dorian's pursuit of pleasure that tainted him, but the way he treated people, and yet the two are inextricably connected.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 10:24 pm (UTC)