On the 3:55PM out of the City. The NFI is one.
A busy day! Old work, new work, school work, home work, spring break, Opening Day, sport peppers, oil spills, stuffy noses, science fairs, sore muscles, secret lairs – just a list of things that have crossed my realm of responsibility this fine day. Nothing you need to concern yourself over (especially you, Mom!).
So Bald Chintee is here, sitting in front of me, but one seat over. I wonder if the magnetic resonance from the earbuds somehow effects the small hoop rings – three, it seems – speared into the cartilage just above his lobe. Is there a feedback loop, accenting the mid-range wavelengths of the King Crimson cover band blasting into his brain. He does have a beautiful skull – Locutus like in its form.
A hefty, shorter Coach Phil Jackson is seated three seats over. Big, bearded, befuddled brutish boy-man, brooding as the backwaters buzz by. The former zen master cum Chinese Buddha idol is in a red jacket/survival tent, listening to the Gregorian Chanters of Staten Island’s extensive back catalog. He’s staring out the window. I got nothing.
Also here are Jeremy Renner, Robert Reich, an Observer from Fringe, and a sleeping Michael Stipe. All are armed.
I have master plans on my mind.
Happy Monday. Safe travels.