static and distance

What would be a good, clichéd book to read while traveling? If you said Kerouac’s On the Road, you were close but no cee-gar. No, I have opted for the following:

If it’s OK by Zimmy it’s OK by me. Dang the first page is enough to get you thinking bout the tracks, a hastily construed knapsack and stirring yer whiskey with a nail…

This train don’t carry no gamblers,
Liars, thieves, nor big shot ramblers,
This train is bound for glory,
this train!

Planning on getting a bit of train travel in, from New York to Boston and possibly Berlin to Paris. It ain’t the cheapest or fastest way around but I’ve always dug trains and the opportunity for reflection and introspection they provide. Plus, of course, the chance to view a whole lotta gorgeous country side. I saw a certain movie a couple of weeks ago that furthered my keenness for train travel. You may know of it…

That song has very much sound tracked my last few weeks and will continue to score my departure, I’d suggest. Clever boys, those Davies brothers. And that Anderson character. The themes of fraternity in The Darjeeling Ltd resounded heavily in my chest and had me missing my own siblings. There I said it. I’d like to think one day the four of us will ride a train across India or Argentina or pilot a submarine to the center of the earth, but for now I’m gonna have to settle on meeting brother Tom in Turkey real soon. He is taking me here:

Whoah! If I see any Jawas around I’ll be sure to sit down to a cup of mulberry tea with them and have them reveal what it was like working with Neil Young.

In five days I will be in San Francisco. This is exciting but still does not seem real. The bulging bag in the corner of my room makes it more tangible, as does my flawed melon gazing at me from my passport upon my desk. My next post will be from the US of A, perhaps it will feel real then. Right now I am off to meet an old friend at the Retreat for a few jars of black and a bit of reminiscing, a bit of nonsense talk and a bit of discussion of what’s further on down the tracks, just around the bend. A fitting final night in my Melbourne.