A Nightingale In A Golden Cage

Sitting in an airport terminal, watching people.

It reminds me of In A Station Of the Metro by Ezra Pound:

IN A STATION OF THE METRO


The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

There aren't quite that many people here, I imagine.

But it's so much fun to watch them.

I like looking at their clothing. Some people have good fashion sense. Others........need help. Most of the guys have it easy. All they need is a pair of pants and a t-shirt. But even guys can screw up. I saw this one woman wear a black pantsuit that was far too tight in the back and highlighted the fact that she no longer has a rear. It made me sad.

There's something about a guy in a nice winter coat. It's just....a good look for guys. Makes 'em look more.....oh, I don't know...it makes them more well put-together. Yes? No? Eh? Or not.

Anywho.

It's very foggy outside. I'm wondering how we're going to fly at all in this weather. But, hey. Who knows. I'm just along for the ride, basically.

Skinny jeans look back on some people. Especially when those skinny jeans are bleached in the rear. And only the rear. It's bad. Don't wear 'em. Just don't.

I feel like a child sitting here with my computer, watching all the big grown ups as they walk past with their boarding passes. And then I remember that I'm one of them. And it's a srange thought.

The plane should be here soon.

Whiiiiich means I need to take my dramamine. Because if Christina doesn't take her dramamine, then she won't feel well ont he plane ride home. And that's bad. :(  <---see? that means bad.