No shadow
No stars
No moon
No cars
It only believes
In a pile of dead leaves
And a moon
That’s the color of bone

No prayers for November
To linger longer
Stick your spoon in the wall
We’ll slaughter them all

November has tied me
To an old dead tree
Get word to April
To rescue me
November’s cold chain

Made of wet boots and rain
And shiny black ravens
On chimney smoke lanes
November seems odd
You’re my firing squad

With my hair slicked back
With carrion shellac
With the blood from a pheasant
And the bone from a hare

Tied to the branches
Of a roebuck stag
Left to wave in the timber
Like a buck shot flag

Go away you rainsnout
Go away blow your brains out

-- Tom Waits.

I'm still feeling pretty logy. But I have left the flat a couple times in the last couple of days.

Monday, on my way home from Boston Medical Center...

14:12 - arrived at bus #1 stop at Mass Ave & Harrison, heading NW
14:17 - gave up...

...mostly because the route home was so circuitous I'd get there on foot in half the time. I mean, I was thinking of taking the bus up to the Mass Ave subway station, riding into Downtown Xing, and then out to JFK, which is patently ridiculous, considering home was a mere mile and a half down Mass Ave in the opposite direction.

So I crossed that mess on the South Side of BMC and came to the #8 bus stop. During rush hour, according to the posted time table, the frequency is supposedly twenty minutes. Other times of the day it's 45 minutes, which frankly isn't worth the wait. If you can walk to wherever you're going in less time than it takes to wait for a bus, then the raison d'etre of the bus is undermined a bit, isn't it? It becomes a symbol. A sort of metabus. But I was not on metabusiness. And I was not on my way to my metahome.

There was a young man in the lean-to when I got there, and he asked me for the time. I told him, and he asked again, and I told him again. He started to roll a cigarette. I said, "been waiting long?" He said, who me? I said, yeah. He was like, naw, I'm not waiting for the bus. I'm just killing time. Good place for it.

I waited there a good ten minutes, couldn't see hanging out with my new friend for another half an hour, forty minutes, when I could be back home napping, so I headed down Mass Ave on foot. Just as I reached the next bus stop, lo and behold, here comes the bus. And it's packed. It still took about fourteen minutes from there, as the driver drove very slowly, chatting up a coworker he was dropping off at the T police headquarters, which is apparently on the route. And then we went to the South Bay Mall there (I think that's what it's called), and there was a man in a wheelchair who wanted out. He was very grateful and said to the surly driver, "I don't know how you do it every day." The driver mumbled something about a "halfway decent paycheck, and that was about it." But in my admittedly short time with him, it honestly didn't look like that much of a hassle. Seems to me a lot of people have it a lot worse. Jobwise. That's the thing about these guys--they seem to have this martyr complex, but for the life of me, I can't understand why. I mean, in their book, obviously, they're the victims. They're the ones being put upon by us. It's twisted.

Speaking of victims. Yesterday afternoon at JFK there was still a heavy police presence. Saturday night, around eleven, some kid got shot in the face near the Sydney Street entrance (that's the one I use). There was a rash of shootings in Dot that night, as a matter of fact. It's just pathetic. I mean, these kids need a better hobby than going around shooting each other. It doesn't take a lot of imagination or skill to shoot someone in the face, now, does it? But what about making a "god's eye" or paper bag puppets for a puppet show! (A possible theme: "just say NO to shooting someone in the face!") These "rad" crafts and "chillin'" puppet shows could be presented on T platforms all over the subway system! It could be like that inspirational movie about the inner city kids who did the ballroom dancing contest thing. Mad Hot Ballroom. It could be, like, Mad Hot God's Eyes!

Sorry, got a little carried away there. I'm running a low-grade fever, you know.

So yesterday I made a short little cameo appearance at "work" (I do metawork, you see, which unlike metapublic transport, is actually preferable to the real thing). So it was the same old route...

12:18 - arrived at JFK
12:34 - departed JFK
12:43 - arrived at Downtown Xing
12:48 - arrived at Park
12:51 - departed Park
12:54 - arrived at Arlington

Total commute: 36 minutes
MBTA estimated total trip time: 21 minutes
discrepancy: +15 minutes
Total time in transit: 12 minutes
Total wait: 24 minutes

I arrived at JFK (where, as I mentioned, police were still out in force, and some MBTA birdbrain was being interviewed by a television crew) a minute or two after two inbound trains had arrived simultaneously. The Braintree train pulled out immediately, but the Ashmont train simply pulled out the the end of the platform and sat there for umpteen minutes. Since the Ashmont side was lit up, this was not a good sign, as for the timeliness of the next train. One question for me is why, if they're going to be sitting at the station, don't they just sit at the station? Why is it that they pull out and sit on the tracks just beyond the platform? If they sat at the station people could still get on the train. Is there some logic to not allowing this? The other thing that always comes to mind when two trains arrive simultaneously or back to back is, why don't they deal with "schedule readjustments" at the beginning and the end of the line?

But whatever.

I have to admit, I added about five minutes to this trip by inadvertantly getting out at Downtown Crossing, instead of Park, and then just walking to Park via the connector tunnel.

At Arlington, the escalator to the street was out of order. It's one of those very skinny ones that only one person at a time can climb, which is awful.


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