[Journal passage, 8 June 1980]
I
|
’m writing this while waiting at the Pomona train station. The
train was due at six-forty-five but it won’t be in (of course) until
eight-thirty. I’ve been amusing myself by reading the baggage restrictions (no
pets, typewriters, radios, cameras, inflammable liquids, records, tapes, record
players, television sets, transmitters, guns, bombs, priceless antiques, coins,
artefacts of value, tape recorders, video players, motion picture projectors,
internal combustion engines, motor-cycles, bicycles, unicycles, epicycles,
shopping carts, time-machines, space-warp engines, dead sea scrolls, or
itinerant peddlers—sometimes I wonder just how one is supposed to transport
one’s goods. (Unlike the bus restrictions, however, Amtrak will carry musical instruments if suitably cased—though not (to
judge by the other restrictions) electronic musical instruments.)
Ah, well—onward I guess. Time marshes on and it’s almost eight
o’clock. A sign across the street—Modoc Sheet Metal Sales—reminds me [of] my Modoc
MS. I haven’t had time this semester to get any further with it, but I’m hoping
to have time this summer to get it finished and out.
Let’s see if I can write. Yeah, I guess I can, if I go slowly.
For some reason my arms hurt like hell and I feel like I was trying to lift
against about three gees. Further, I seem to be on a train to Portland I
guess—at least a guy just took my ticket without comment—but I don’t have the
slightest idea just how I got here. A little bit ago I was on a quite different
train to LA—yeah, and I remember arriving at Pasadena, and then somewhere in
there I suddenly realized I was on a quite different train with quite different
people and my arms hurt. Also my back. I’m trying to maintain, but I wonder if
I’m losing my reason. Or—could this be a dream? It seems real enough—a little
too real—but then so do most dreams. God, I hate to think that I’m about to
hear that goddamn alarm go off and have to get up and go. I hope this is real. I’d
rather have it be real than have to do it over.
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