Mel-NEH-bone-AY, eer-KOON, em-RERR-rerr?

It takes at least two hours to get to Oakville, and one and a half to get to TSA. The plus side is that I get more of a chance to ride the trains. They aren't as crowded (or as smelly) as the subway, and there's more to see than walls and ads. It's different on a train. There's a special serenity about it. Bits of nature and pieces of neglected civilization mesh together as the train passes, routes often traveled but never settled, suspended in a world that is neither here nor there. For a time there are no destinations to speak of, and no origins to recall. There's a rare tranquility, briefly, in the understanding that things like responsibility and obligation only exist beyond the stops.

I also had this idea about a clown playing a harmonica, but it's night, and he's a hobo. 

Wonder if he plays any Woody Guthrie.