Journey and the thoughts along the way

marking time in space (can be erased and redrawn- original text is in pencil)

start: crates, containers, moving slowly

planes landing, slowly, cycling (I'm reminded of my returning)

"Welcome aboard"

landscape- origin of term? ownership?

continuous motion, presence/absence

"I'm here," I say on the phone. Here where? In the land,

many miles from you.

red of the trees disrupts my thinking, one big wall
It's quiet, slow, pleasant, drawn out horn
I'm imagining Washington's coast but I can be anywhere, nowhere
(mothering is/as a landscape, no one owns it.)

"Train attendant, Harold..." Earth divided: pumpkin field, golf course, count American flags

left view so different from the right- for an instant vast space, passing train

gray clouds hang low, a blue patch

riding on the shore, overhearing conversations

homes on stakes, destruction inevitable

(when ripped apart from one's child, there is a sensation of a body part being pulled away.

"It's good for her, she will learn." She is fine now, but the tears in the eyes are no illusion.

I have carried her since my mother's birth- cycle of 50 years.

"I want to go on the train too!" She would enjoy this ride)

"Don't put your hands in your mouth." Hygiene, smell of others

Houses blanketed with leaves, is that some body's home?

get the impression of the land, land Washington?, in language

smell of lunch permeates the car, french fries

dirt dangling off a shoe "Don't have to worry 'bout my mind & goin' home."

The train moves without me, someone shoots the train

homey smell of french fries, is it homey or just a smell?

cows! I'm embedded into the land

sounds: cell phone, bubble gum pop, low tones of conversation

America, decapitated houses, it's raining

I remember this town, the cottage, the shack

are we riding slower or faster than we drove?

I have too much food "Could you help me eat them?"

old folks wave "Bye, Bye," the cars rock

write legibly (need to be read, ALOUD/ALLOWED)

"Someone else's heart pumping someone else's blood & walking arm in arm..."

it is a continuous missing, thoughts of her fade but never quite get away

she's such a fascinating being, and we are utterly interconnected

more thoughts escape now

things pass by

notes are slight

collapsing structures

who's dumb idea was this?

Boredom sets in, industrial landscape, trash

I just ate trash, soggy swiss and ham, ham questionable, smells like it but does not taste

nighttime is harder- what was I trying to escape? & trade for this boredom, this immense time, for what?

to sit in no space, facing my fears, I'd rather fold laundry

I know I will like the sunrise, but that is twelve hours aways! what till then?

bodily functions are under control, "PATIENCE"

always in the middle of the process there is a problem

freight train is broken

when train is still???

Awake to an awaking California!

What a night! stuck behind a freight train in the middle of nowhere, Oregon

for hours

lost much hope

changed that slightly by learning a few cords on the guitar

teacher, a bluegrass player

A stop, I loose track where. Through Ani conversation on landscape- understanding it as scape

something one sees, objectifying it. (possessing it?)

On a train that does not (the picture) exist.

it is continuous, not ending, no rectangle

where does the art end? ever changing, never ending

pace, pace of the train, slow, peaceful

12:30 reservations in the dinning car

how much do I need to consume? how much money do I need? how much energy does one need sitting down?

logs turned into blocks

bee hives, planes, hawks & birds on a wire, electric lines

"dreamin'"

collapsing structures, can see for miles, cranes

jogger on a road in the middle of the land

Americans walking off fat, "We can't do nothin' but sit back and relax"

The train has stopped,(again), so has my mood

the sky is lovely, the sun pierces through clumps of clouds

sadness flooded like the rain of Portland, but it does move like the weather- soaking, pouring, drying

I keep recalling the second leaving, where it was my choice

that responsibility for my sadness floods me

cycle

movement feels better than stillness

there is comfort in things going by, no preciousness

delayed writing, why this mark making?

It's not about arriving, necessarily, it is about the process in getting there

(but really sometimes you just want to be there already!)

one wastes allot of this 'open' time, one does not need this time

bursts of two to four hours, yes, but 36-40, no.

Nothing is ever still, ducks swimming, cows feeding, Canadian geese stretching their wings

flocks of ducks take flight

cow with calf, bull wades in water, drinks, am reminded of Cedeberg animals

what grace!

train- a state of (indirect) non production