On the foolish 7:30AM into the City. The NFI is two.
I thought I was going to catch the earlier train, but I got here just as it left the station
I’m a little out of sorts this morning. Y’see, I’ve been mulling over an important decision. The thing about this decision, a career move with a chance at really putting my talents as a public speaker and as a advocate for the sciences, is that I won’t be taking the train anymore.
Then, this ends.
No Bald Chintee. No chance to see strange makeup artistry. I will lose the pulse of the Western Suburbanite.
I won’t be able to get a better view of Jane Alexander, who just happens to be seated one seat over. Her clamshell protecting her iCrackerBot is the same color as her scarf. From here, she looks more and more like Snape’s mom. No smile. The black navy peacoat is buttoned up tight. Her age wrinkles are showing through her basecoat of makeup. She’s married, which is the only real constant in her plain Jane life, and he’s a bit of a jerk.
Marlon Brando is seated all the way back in an aisle seat. The aged method actor and New School graduate (Lipton brags about this in practically every episode of The Actors Studio). From here the fellow died earlier this morning, his ticket hanging from a lanyard around his neck. Nobody bothered to wake him.
Anyway, thank you for your readership. I’ll try and start some other blog once I get settled into my new gig.
Also here are the Mutual of Omaha guy, a silver haired Liam Neesen, Joe Mantegna, and Greg Maddux. All are armed.
Happy Tuesday. Safe travels.