Sardines and Hot Breath

I decided to go home right after work, rather than stay at school and do my other gig. This meant I would surely have to stand all the way home, something I pride myself on rarely having to do. But there is something different that goes on with the train when it's fucking cold and the folks are told to stay off the roads: They all take the fucking train.

Now, common sense dictates remaining on the platform when the train doors open and no one is moving, when you can't see beyond the three-person layer of a wall that cannot, should not, be penetrated. Common sense wasn't in use this evening, as idiot after idiot forced themselves onto the train, mouths open, chests -- revealed by an open shirt -- sweaty, eyes averted.

Then I had a thought: What if there was another blackout? I knew there wouldn't be, but, really, what if we would have been stuck like this for an extended period of time? And then some people actually apologized for getting on the train, meaning: "I know I shouldn't get on the train because it is clearly too full for me to board, but I'm going to get on anyway because I can't bear to wait two minutes for another train. So, I'm sorry."

The body waving was interesting, though. Because you're stuck in the middle with no pole, you must rely on the buffer created by the bodies close by to maintain one's balance. (Luckily, the woman leaning on me was cute.)

And then there was the NYPD today at the GF. They were searching trashcans and not telling anyone why. I had a suggestion about my pronoun problem for my thesis. (Thanks, Bill. Give me your e-mail address, by the way, please.) Interestingly, this dilemma is actually my point. It is my issue as the writer to come up with a suitable identifier. I am judging the film from an outsider's perspective, and there is a semblance of confusion and uncertainty.

This is similar to everything outside of the film. Like when I'm mistaken for a man and when women look at the bathroom door to make sure they're in the correct one (happened yesterday; I smiled). And who is targeted for this confusion? Not the confused. Those targeted are the ones responsible for the confusion. So yes, this is what I'm facing as I prepare to identify the post-Hedwig figure that emerges at the end of the film. Haven't seen it yet? Rent it. Or come over and I'll put it on for you...