Park Bench

In the park I sat on a bench and looked around. On one side of me was a woman, young, with a shaved head. She was crying, tears in the corners of her cheeks, fingers wiping at them and trying to press them back into her eyes. On the other side of me was a woman, older but strangely beautiful, with her legs crossed and her hair grey. She was laughing, reading from a piece of paper, every once in a while leaning backwards to stare up through the trees to the sky and send her tiny laughs upwards.

They stopped, and after a few minutes, left. I stayed on the bench for another half an hour.

I don't think they saw each other.

Reflections

I see my reflection so many times a day. Often its distorted, sometimes alot. sometimes a little. I wonder which one is most correct?

Hitler Mustaches!

Will Hitler mustaches ever go completely out of style? I just saw a guy wearing one, at a liberal/left university, or all places! I would think that there are certain fashion styles that would be retired, rather out of infamousness than fame. Perhaps fashion is above history? Or maybe there are certain fashion statements that are too good to pass up, and only get better with their historical weight. Certainly Fascist-esque jack boots are currently popular with the ladies, although not as much as last fall. Can't say I'm unhappy to see those go. But the Hilter-stash is great, its like a archaic thinkpiece, like civil war muttonchops, or a natural history exhibit on phrenology. I just hope the hipsters don't sieze the stash the way they have muttonchops. Or phrenology either. Back, hipsters, back! Hitlersters?

Somit in a Subway Car

Vomit in a subway car is a strange invasion of sterility. Of all places, a subway car is one where you expect germs to thrive. Yet you get used to the idea of the shiny chrome rails and plastic seats have a generalized dirtiness that has nothing to do with grime. When you see a giant puddle of pink puke trickling down the car as the train accerates, that false sterility is destroyed, and a new plane of dirtiness is established. I wonder how the fellow who deposited it feels about it, as he now spits flecks of vomit between his legs as the stain slides past him on the floor.

The First Line of Text

Is always the toughest. Whatever else follows, the first line will always be first. Should it be descriptive? Prophetic? Declarative? Simply introductory? Will it stand as an example, a paradigm, of what is to follow, or it will it be just filler, something which must be read in order to get to the end?