Journals of a Non-Poet

Sitting on the subway always sparks up ideas. Bizarre. I imagine it’s partly to do with the storylines I’m mulling over for my short film (one based on the Glaswegian underground); but there’s something more to it. Definitely.

I liken it much to my experience in the shower. Experiences, rather. And before you get any ideas; experiences of creativity. Cheeky.

Yes; oddly, I seem to find solace in the shower and the same goes for the subway train. I think the disconnecting from everything else plays a big part in the creative bursts. In both areas; just in different ways.

The shower delivers a relaxing, wet, techology free environment where one can find themselves singing, jiving, conversing with oneself & generally mulling ideas. When I say ‘one’; I speak for myself. Perhaps I’m the only one? Perhaps not.

Where the subway is concerned; there’s a place wherein you aren’t permitted; no, able to converse. Of course it is possible to chatter etc, but for me personally – it seems to be a place void of obligation to speak. In total contrast to the shower, it’s not devoid of technology. It’s not wet (generally). It’s certainly not relaxing. Rather, it’s loud, smells a bit and doesn’t provide the best setting for a conversation. But, for me at least, something interesting happens. When on the subway, I begin to observe more. I see characters that I wouldn’t see if I weren’t placed in a non-verbal, aurally polluted environment. I am, admittedly an observer. I like to watch people. I’m generally interested in people. I just can’t stand them sometimes.

So yes. I’m sure you can tell, I’m divulging a thought that was sparked on the subway train. I’m up. Moving towards the exit of the underground station and struggling to type on my iTelephone. In fact, I just spent at least six minutes trying to correctly type ‘struggling’. And again.

I’m off to view a flat. I’m looking for something rather lovely; and despite the fact that I found the ideal place not two weeks ago, due to a bit of a bastardy situation where late references were concerned, I’m hunting again.

What makes matters worse, is that because we were so sure of getting the lovely place; we’ve signed to vacate our current place.

Twenty three days, and counting until I’m on the street. Fun fun fun.

TTFN,

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