This is called alternative publishing. I don't hate it. It has grown on me. As a matter of fact, I quite like it. A box full of stories and poems and artworks, each their own little accordion paper.
Speaking of artwork, they also published the fancy (ahem) piece of brush and ink I worked up for the piece.
I've got a thing about trains, especially over crowded ones. It's a love hate thing, mostly hate.
But last night...
I attended a wedding party of a co worker (that has or shall be blogged soon, as vast amounts of alcohol were consumed and I made an ass of myself ... yet...again). I took a relatively late train home so of course it was relatively crowded as well. You see, I have never acquired a sturdy pair of train-legs and must use those plastic rings hanging from the ceiling to keep from falling all over the place. I slip into the car...
Now the key to this story is that it is winter and we are all dressed in cushy coats, scarfs and mittens -- okay, no mittens, but soft bear-like clothes. Crowded trains in the summer are another beast all together, sweat and sticky and skin, strangers. Bleh.
It is winter.
I reach over and grab a ring and I'm not letting go. Soon I notice that I've wedged myself in between three brothers (they all have the same nose, this is how I know they are related). This is all fine. I'm protected; I'm wearing a coat. I'm hanging my head down. I got Chili Peppers on extremely loud in my ears. I begin to examine three that surround me.
One brother is round and has scant hair and is short, the second sorta dark-skinned, medium build but with creepy eyes. Now, the last brother is a tad taller than me, thin, he's got this amazing Adam's apple that is going up and down, up and down as he talks. He has this chin that is starting to grow in a beard and eyes that are almost hazel. I begin to grow infatuated. This train makes a sharp right and I fall into the fake fur of the hood of his coat...it smells like tempura...dreamy!
