| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- help me help me help me, thank you thank you thank you an entry written on the train ... It is windy here in Nebraska this morning. Time is 7:20 a.m. There are stalks of wheat waving in the wing and the low darkening clouds are reaching down to the horizon. I wave a telepathic wave to you.Groups of cows nestle in hillsides and tiny valleys. This doesn�t seem like a real world. It seems like a pretend world. I�m trying very hard to look for pieces of realness�to see a person. One real person with real thoughts that I can read on his or her face. a day later .... On the train: someplace in Nevada (past Elko). Well this train is running at least three hours behind schedule�maybe four hours. I�m not real happy about that but what can I do? I will be home at some point today. And despite the length of this trip I must say that the scenery has been amazing. Yesterday�s trek through the Rockies was astounding. We were traveling through an area where no cars go � it was completely wild. Once, we moved past a deer that seemed so close I was sure I could reach out and touch it. She had huge velvet brown eyes, soft fuzz covering her antlers and tawny golden brown fur. We also moved past herds and herds of cows and groups of horses and even burrows. We stopped in Denver briefly and I got off the train. It was hot outside � a welcome relief to the cool, sterile chill of the train. Later though it rained�there were dark heavy-bottomed clouds grazing the mountains and lightening flashes off in the hills. A bolt of lightening even sparked a forest fire � we could see smoke and flames shooting out of the trees. I went to sleep at 10pm last night, fairly early. But I couldn�t handle the Midnight Cowboy anymore. He is this guy I first saw in the train station in Chicago. He was sitting in a chair with headphones on and when he stood up and yawned this loud, animal-like yowl, it scared me. My first thought when I saw him was �Jon Voight in Midnight Cowboy�. But not in a good way. My second thought was "please don't let him sit next to me" Then, when we finally got on the train (which was an hour late and I nearly passed out in the station from the heat, I felt so queasy) he ended up sitting next to me. �Is this seat taken?� he asked. I looked up at him � this big hulking figure with blonde hair and a protruding forehead and gulped, �uh no.� Hi, I�m -- he said, and I�m going to talk your head off all the way to Reno. And me, ever Miss Congeniality, replied: �Uh, I�m � and I�m not going to talk your head off.� He told me he was going to Reno to work in the casinos which he had also done in Las Vegas. We talked for a bit and I thought that was that. When he found out I was married he seemed to back off a bit. He listens to his radio loud, I can hear the music seeping out from his headphones, even when I�m not sitting next to him. Madonna, Nelly Furtado. Van Halen. The Pretenders. Whatever hits radio station he can tune into in whatever region we�re rambling through. The first night, the train was fairly empty so he moved over to another seat to sleep and I thought maybe I was in luck when the steward told him he could stay in that seat if he wished. But when we pulled into McCook, Nebraska we all had to double up again to make room for new passengers and the Midnight Cowboy rushed back over to my seat so that he wouldn�t have to sit with someone new. �You understand personal boundaries,� he told me later, �I don�t have to break you in, you�re courteous and well-mannered.� Oh, how I wish I could say the same for him. The more he talks to me the more I find myself curling up into this tightly coiled ball of unfriendliness. On one hand I feel bad � especially since he seems to have bonded with the 6th grade math and science teacher and the young child care worker. But I can�t handle it, I really can�t. It started in earnest when he asked me what I did for a living and he kind of flipped out when he found out. He took my job occupation as an invitation to tell me all about his theories on reproduction. OK, I�ll give you the quick version here: He was a drug and alcohol baby (at least that�s what I�ve gathered) and as a result started his life out addicted to drugs and alcohol (and this is why he looks like a Neanderthal with a protruding forehead � his words, not mine) and as a teen became involved in crimes of some sort. To make a really long story shorter he fathered two children, spent time in jail/prison and has just recently completed some kind of program in Milwaukee. I�m not sure what kind of program. But he keeps talking about �the place I just got out of �� He told me about talking to psychologists (while in this program) and how he had to convince them that we are all really fucked up when it comes to reproduction. He told me about having to sit down to talk to his sons and tell them that �the way me and your mother conceived you was inappropriate � like diseased animals� and how we have to stop these forms of reproduction. I kept nodding my head and saying �uh huh� and I know I should have asked more questions because it really is interesting, but honestly it�s more interesting when you�re slightly removed from it, not sitting right next to it. All this talk of genetic mutation and the scientific theories surrounding reproduction and how none of us know how to reproduce the right way and we have to relearn so that we don�t keep creating Neanderthals such as himself. Anyway, at one point, the train cleared out again and I got the chance to switch seats � right across from him (and my new seat wasn�t as comfortable) but at least now I wasn�t sitting practically on top of him and he was more easily distracted by the teacher and the child care worker. And indeed he was. In fact, much like this train, he just seems to keep gathering steam the faster we roll. Last night he got started on the Bible when he found out that the child care worker was a Christian. She says she�s believed in God for the last 10 years and then he starts going off about how horrible the bible is and horrible the Pope is and how �girls like you are afraid of guys like me� and how his ex-wife used to be afraid of him but now he�s trying to get in touch with his good side. I think he needs to try a little harder .... It was kind of interesting listening to the nice Christian woman talk with the Midnight Cowboy....the reasoned woman of faith trying to deflect the over-heated rant of the scientific zealot..it was the opposite of the dynamic you usually find in such a situation.. And let me tell you, my own relationship with a higher power has been touch and go much of my life. On and off through church and parochial school and good times and hard times but last night I found myself praying to just make it through the rest of this trip with the Midnight Cowboy. As Anne Lamott says in �Traveling Mercies� (the book I'm reading right now) the best two prayers she knows are �help me help me help me� and �thank you thank you thank you.� And as I was thinking these thoughts the Christian child care worker suddenly says, �you know who you remind me of? That guy in Midnight Cowboy.� I nearly choked on the very air I was breathing at this point and as much as I wanted to jump up and say �yes, yes yes!� I resisted, slinking further into my seat. And then when the conversation started veering between how he really was a �monkey�s uncle� (meaning, he explained, none to subtly) that he�s biracial and on to how horrible and sinful �The Simpsons� are (Oh really, said the Christian woman, I love the Simpsons) and on to damaged sperm and whores and again on how we don�t know how to reproduce properly, well at that point I got out my CD player, put in my best of Roxy Music CD and turned it up loud on my headphones. I just couldn�t take it anymore. There are two types of people in this world I guess � those who like to argue with nut cases on trains and those who will become nut cases themselves if they don�t try and tune it out. At one point I woke up and he was sleeping with his headphones on, the music was so loud I could everything perfectly. Later I woke up again and he was gone. This morning he said he�d slept down in the observation deck�.Only about three more hours with him on this train and I�m counting down the minutes. Both fascinated and freaked-out. This odd guilty feeling of how I should be striking up conversations with him to try and better understand his theories of damaged sperm and dangerous reproduction. But no, I slip on my own headphones and stare out the window, just wanting to be home, marveling at the occasional deer and the ducks and the horses and the dusty barren mountains. More later: on Westin and CC and the Christian woman and the absentee father (Dad, where have you been???)
10:57 a.m. - 2001-08-03
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