The lonesome whistles are fewer and farther between, and trains of thought are easily derailed by the fog of distractions blowing from the unseen smokestacks surrounding us. Many places, they’re ripping out the train tracks and putting pea gravel down, hoping to convince the leisure class to go on long bike rides and spend bits of their wealth while on tourist excursion. And other places they’re quietly building cavernous warehouse data centers, consuming energy at alarming rates, just to spin faster through artificial permutations to answer idle questions or execute passive ideas that wouldn’t have ever survived physical effort. We are somehow building a more difficult world for regular folks under the guise of progressing towards some sort of perverted notion of what technology is supposed to do. And I try to sit outside at night, and soak up the stars in the sky for calming effect, but I get distracted myself. I try to wait it out and hear at least one or two of those lonesome whistles, either the north/south intermodals running to the west of me at Rockfish, or the east/west coal trains running to the south in Howardsville. When I hear one, sitting out there, trying to do more nothing, my heart flutters for a split second.
No comments:
Post a Comment