Letters to you, on a Train

Letters to you, on a Train

Hi!

I just sat down on the train, it’s the Southwest Chief going from Chicago to Los Angeles. There’s this woman in pigtail braids eating a can of EZ-cheese to the mouth, no crackers or anything. Did you know that the shelf life of EZ-cheese is close to two years and requires no refrigeration? I’m feeling amused and kind of disgusted by this, but I’m serious about examining and ridding myself of judgement. I think I was judging the EZ cheese because of the sorbic acid, (the chemical in EZ-cheese, and the reason why bread doesn’t mold anymore). You know, not everyone is so privileged to have a complex towards sorbic acid. Plus, I used to think EZ cheese was the coolest when I was twelve, and I just remembered that I still eat mustard plain, with no crackers or anything, arguably weirder, but no sorbic acid.

Guess what!? Someone left a silver spoon on the floor in the seat next to me. I asked pigtail lady if it was hers, she said no, so I took it as my own. Part of me wonders if you’ll care about this, but I really love spoons. I think you’ll get excited by how excited I get about spoons. I think I find them comfortable, especially the round soup spoons. If you’re ever questioning what to get me for my birthday, an especially-round spoon would be perfect. I once found a spoon in the dirt by a tree last summer, looking for my cell phone, so this train spoon is now the second silver spoon that has found me. And for very good reason I suppose. There are many layers of energetic frequency embedded in everyday objects.

There seems to be a delay on this train, something about the breaks. I knew this would happen. I’ve eaten almost all my dried mango and we haven’t even left the station yet. “You’re so predictable, you have virtually no ability to delay gratification, your lack of discipline will destroy you.” Shut up voice. (I’m battling demons in my head…)

Ok, THE TRAIN IS MOVING! Pigtail lady turns to me and says, “That girl is too weird for me, I gotta go.” She’s talking about Miss Hines, she was first person I made contact with on the train, she spoke to me as if she had already knew me, in a casual, familiar tone, she goes, “Yo! is this the train to California?!” Yep! Right on… Pigtail lady was weirded out because she kept muttering to herself, kinda like Smegol from Lord of the Rings. Yeah, she was probably, “on drugs.” That, and probably victim to the web of systemic racism, economic inequality, racial profiling, marginalization, cultural imperialism, and I’ll go out on a limb here and say, somebody else in her family was was probably messed up on drugs, too. Nothing was wrong with her, but something definitely happened to her. She seemed very interesting, and I had a passing thought that I’d interview her.

Do “crazy people” phase you? They don’t seem to phase me that much, or so it’s my experience of myself. Back in New York I interviewed a man who was speaking to some pigeons in Tompkins Square Park. He told me a lot of lies about history, but to him, they were true. I wrote the “Pigeon-man Interview” on a sheet of loose-leaf paper. I wish I could find it for you, because I believed everything he said. When I told my friend about it, he said something like, “Rachel, that’s impossible, Kennedy wasn’t in office until 1961, and there’s no way animals like that would be living in such cold weather.” Something along the lines of that.

Everyone in New York hates Pigeons, well, not everyone. I remember skipping class one day to sit at the Marlton Hotel, I wrote, “Who Really Owns The City?” Us or them? They’re not afraid of us, and they eat well, very busy with our crumbs. In 1918, A pigeon named Cher Ami (dear friend), saved the lives of many french soldiers by carrying messages over enemy lines, in the heat of battle, Cher Ami was shot in the chest and the leg, but continued the flight! She was awarded The Croix de Guerre (French medal for heroic service). This other pigeon named G.I. Joe saved thousands of lives when communication lines were down. G.I. Joe was their only hope, long story short, he saved everyone and was awarded the Dickin Medal (honor the work of animals in World War II).

I worked at a psychiatric hospital for a brief period of time. This one afternoon we were having a conversation about a schizophrenic patient who believed the US government was sending him “free money” in the mail, and collected thousands of dollars of debt. He was talking about credit card mail offers, which, when you think about it, doesn’t seem that insane. Credit card debt collection seems like booming industry. The best thing to do with a schizophrenic patient is to just go along with the story, as if it makes complete sense, and in my experience, they tend to make many metaphorical truths, in a really abstract-mystical kind of way.

Miss. Hines was just kicked off the train by the train authorities, (that’s how I learned her name). She really wasn’t doing anything wrong, besides being on drugs and mumbling to herself, as far as I could make out. She only made it to Naperville. Watching her go back down that platform into the tunnel totally sucked, and I’m not supposed to “tell” you how I feel, but I felt really sad watching her go back. To speak on her accord, she went willingly and peacefully. Hope you’re doing well Miss Hines! Wherever you are…

Have you ever felt like your “living while bleeding?” Like, you’re doing everything you normally do in life, but at the same time you’ve got this blood streaming down your leg? Or maybe it’s an arm? I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed to say it, but there’s a part of me that feels weak, and annoyed with myself, because it’s been a year now, and I’m still bleeding over it.

We just stopped in Mendota, IL, and guess who just got on? An Amish family! Michael told me this would happen. Michael is the barista that works at the Dollop coffee on Chestnut and Dewitt. When I told him I was taking the Amtrak he said, “have you ever been on the Amtrak? It sucks, and it smells like Amish people.” That was pretty unexpected coming from Michael, he told me has three cats who puke all over his apartment. Ok, so the Amish people do smell, but it’s not a bad smell. I can’t put my finger on it, but the closest I can say is pine tree smell. The whole family just sat down behind me, they’re speaking a language that kind of sounds like gibberish. I don’t mind the crying Amish baby, but now that they’re sitting behind me, I can no longer let out my farts freely.

I’m finding myself not wanting to use my phone in the presence of the Amish, more so than usual. My minds playing out this scene, where the Amish people look me up and down, see me on my phone/laptop whatever, and then whisper to each other, “look at her, another victim to technology, that’s brain death by radio-active toxic garbage.” At times I’ll find myself on the couch, deep-dive scrolling into oblivion on social media — and after who knows how long, I’ll say to myself, “well, I can’t get that time back…” I say that more often than I’d like to. Have you ever thrown your phone across the room? I have a few times, just in frustration, because I feel like the phones gaining jurisdiction over me. So throwing it makes me feel like I’m putting it in it’s place, like, yo, just reminding you that I could chuck you over the balcony if I wanted to. I once dropped my phone and said, “ouch…” That’s a one liner I use at comedy open mics, that actually happened and it works with the crowd every time.

The voice in my head is telling me to interview the Amish family on the train, “or else it will kill me,” not in the literal sense, but just feeling strong about the opportunity, and I know I’m not going to hear the end of it, which is fine, I can do without the dramatic “death threat” as motivation, but this time I agree. We were in the cafe cabin of the train, I think thats what they call it, the place where you can sit and be social. There were four, no, six, no, five of them at the table, ok, so there were four of them at the table, and two of them at the adjacent table. All men, except the one Amish lady sitting by herself, knitting a purple something. They were speaking to each other in Amish, what I later leaned is called “swaybish,” Swabia is a cultural, historic and linguistic region in southwestern Germany.

It took me a few moments before I could gather up the courage to approach them, “ok, “1–2–3…GO… no? Alright, 1–2–3…GOooo Rachel.” I used to say that to myself in in the parking lot of the hospital I used to work at, in my car before starting work. So, I walked up to them and said, “Hi, my name’s Rachel — I’m a writer for an “independent literary publication” and I’m interested in learning about the Amish lifestyle, and I think other people would be interested, too. I think the simplicity of your lifestyle could be beneficial for people to hear about.” The one guy just looked at me and said “we’d rather not.”

Well ok, that sucks, so be it. Maybe I need to work on my approach? Or maybe they weren’t buying my “independent literary publication” bullshit, or they have no interest in explaining themselves to us, the outside world. The the key to doing anything — is to not be attached to the outcome, go for what you want, definitely make the effort, just don’t be attached to the outcome. Do it, then let go, remove yourself from the result. This lil’ factoid of wisdom has served me well, and probably has saved me from loads of disappointment. My spiritual teachers taught me this, thank you D&E❤

I went back to my seat, unsuccessful. A little amish girl and her mother walked into the cabin. I smiled at her, and she smiled back, but then — then she caught a glimpse of my laptop, and her face, haha her face, how to I describe this encounter to you? Her face changed from a sweet smile, to sheer disapproval, and possibly fear, at the sight of my laptop. I love children, I love how unadulterated they are, no filter, like, if a child calls you ugly, they’re probably right. The adults were too polite to give me any indication of their attitudes towards technology by way facial expression, so I was thrilled, finally! Finally I could get some indication of their convictions through this child.

First time my laptop has received a micro-aggression, but honestly, part of me wanted to chuck it out the window, but “removing the rubber and pulling the handle” would trigger the emergency exit. So yeah, toss my laptop out the window to gain the approval and respect from the amish community — I’ll also toss my phone out for added affect. Is it effect or affect? I’ve been bothered and avoiding this for a while, recently I created a solution — *effaffect* —cretinous, yes.

I was just sitting, minding my own business, when I noticed one of the younger amish guys in the cabin kept looking at me. I think my failed interview attempt intrigued him, the older amish wanted nothing to do with me. His body language was turned towards me, then he inched a little closer, walked to my table and said something like, “Hi, my name is Marvin, and I’d like to speak to you.”

— — still writing this letter!