London Tube Gems (May-June)

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i haven't been reading the Tube much lately.

not reading on the Tube

but reading it

as a thing of itself

reading it caringly enough

to cradle it in my eyelids

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When I came back on the Tube, my energy crashed. I felt so exhausted, I rested my head on the side of the handbar. I remembered how teachers (or parents) corrected your posture when you held your head in your hands, telling you mockingly is your head that heavy that it can't stand up alone?

I closed my eyes, imagining that I was taking off my awareness, sleeve by sleeve, and hanging it on a coat stand behind the door.

Sometimes, I opened my eyes, just to let in enough altertness to feel safe. There were four guys in front of me in red sports T-shirts. I couldn't tell whether it was football or another sport. I didn't really try to.

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There was a crack in the sky with tremendous lighting displays. A storm erupted, there was heavy rain. When I arrived at the station, the pattering rain was making the wheels of the Tube set off big sparks, almost like little flames. Thunder was rolling, although now that I write it like that, it sounds like the start of a Wattpad fanfic.

At the station, people were waiting under the porch, visibly waiting for the rain to stop. Despite wearing my nice shoes, I just decided to walk straight back home. It was pouring and rivers were forming in the alleyways and there were spirals of leaves in the gutters. When I arrived home, my trousers were completely soaked and my hair was congealed with water.

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"All Northbound trains are suspended". People queue up to ask the man on the platform how to best redirect them to their station. A few people look very discouraged. It is already 11pm, it is a week night. One teenager looks despaired. One man keeps saying but how can I get to Wembley. I loop around stations, stop at four stations at least on the way. It is almost amusing, at some of them, I see people from a few station back, who got off elsewhere to take another route, but ended up converging here as well.

On whatever line I end up on, there is a woman chatting really loudly to a foreigner. She is explaining to her how fares work for the Tube in London. Really, you know, it shouldn't be called public transport. You see, I pay 8.80 (she pronounces it eight.point.eighty) for my commute every day, they should do an hourly fare instead, it's not about where you go it's about how long you travel.

There is a guy with a foldable scooter, and another with a washed out salmon military jacket, like bullet-proof jacket style but out of crumpled fabric. He doesn't look very amicable.

To overcome the feeling that I am wasting my time, I shell tasks out in my head, squeezing them out of their pods, hoping to hasten the process once I get my fingers around them.

1. Find a towel and clean bedsheets for my friend

2. Pack spare change of clothes for tomorrow

3. Remember waterbottle for work

I end up getting home okay.

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On my way back in the Bakerloo Line, people were being all rowdy because the Tube wasn't leaving. Some switched to the Tube opposite on the platform, then got back in, half-complaining, half-looking for attention. One quiet guy, on the other hand, took out a notepad and started drawing.

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As I return from Brick Lane, there is an old man man with a shopping trolley. As we go down the stairs, he says god bless you, thank you so much, god sent you to help me. I smile a lot. I don't know why but in that moment I thought it's not about whether you believe in something, it's about whether you lean on it to find meaning.

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one of the best moments was on the Tube with my friend, we each have an earphone in and were listening to the most unconnected juxtaposition of songs. we almost oozed out the music with our bodies, literally dancing along in our seats.

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I saw a man with a piece of fruit bulging out of the front pocket of his chino pants. It reminded me of the time a friend had tucked an open bottle of white wine on the side pocket of his backpack. It was just there on the Tube, with its corkscrew, slightly out of character with his sports clothes and the dreary people standing behind him.

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a pile of thoughts on the Tube today ( welcome all thoughts, but don't believe all of them):

there are many school kids today

it is earlier in the morning

is it early enough to finish the assay in time?

what proportion of thoughts are in the first person?

is it possible to live an entire day not in the first person?

travelling Overground is so much nicer

this woman has great posture

are some books best read on Kindle rather than paper?

will the assay be finished in time for the flow slot?

creating is essential

don't tell an investor you are flexible for a call or they will schedule it at 9pm

is it too late to move the call?

this woman looks like she believes in crystal healing

no-one ever smokes cigarettes on the Tube

which makes a lot of sense but still

is routine willpower or enslavement

poetry is the nicest nickname we have given to life

this one is from Jacques Prevert

a man ushers wordlessly *do you want to sit down?*

(she is pregnant)