Tag: commute

I am instantly taken back to those late-fall mornings

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I am instantly taken back to those late-fall mornings when we had to stand glued to others in jam-packed buses, never daring to grab a seat if one ever was free—fall mornings… I’d give anything to experience again the unmistakable snug feeling of bodies swaying to the rhythm of the bus, seeking warmth like penguins huddled together— … people going to work, to school, or looking for work, they were on the bus too, broken and sad, always sad, angry, and scared—of the cold, of life, of your glance when they caught you staring and looked away, their ragged coats smelling of weather-beaten wool that had just been in the rain and whose damp scent I’ve always loved.

— André Aciman, Roman Year: A Memoir (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, October 22, 2024)

Notes:

  • DK Recommendation? Loved it!
  • Book Reviews
    • NY Times: “Roman Year“: An Exile Revisits the Squalor and Grandeur of 1960s Italy
      • “Aciman evokes the passing of time in rich, meandering prose, rebuilding 1960s Rome in sentences suffused with light and sound and memories — the taste of an artichoke, the smell of bergamot and of Crêpe de Chine perfume. From the bewilderment of arrival, the young Aciman moves through denial toward a gradual acceptance of his new life. “Roman Year” is both an affecting coming-of-age story and a timely, distinctive description of the haunted lives of refugees.”
    • Guardian: Memento Amore

Ripe

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A Tuesday, on the train, in the evening, after work. The train smells of: humans and ruin, bad breath, old sweat, rotten fruit. Through the dirty window, San Francisco in winter: cold sunset over glinting water, dark hills dusted with lights, the black silhouettes of palm fronds clawing at the fading pastel sky.

The train is full of Believers. I’m not one of them. The Believers have wan skin and glassy eyes. They wear: wind jackets with tech logos, raw denim, canvas sneakers, sustainable ballet flats. Their white plastic earbuds override the sound of real life, their faces buried in their screens. They do not speak or make eye contact. They aren’t really here. The train is full of husks.

I act like one of them. Slow, sad music plays through my earbuds. The song makes the commute feel like a movie. With each flash of scenery, the train carries me farther away from the office. Each day here presses the life out of me. On the way home, I am silent, flat, pulped.

— Sarah Rose Etter, Ripe: A Novel (Scribner, July 11, 2023)

Image & Book Review by Vivian Manning-Schaffel in Shondaland (July 11, 2023): In Her New Novel, ‘Ripe,’ Sarah Rose Etter Shows the Pitfalls of a Hyper-Capitalist System. Etter’s latest novel is a poignantly tragic, absurdist view of the “late-capitalist hellscape” that is grind culture.

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call. (If you think your commute is too long…)

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If you think your commute is too long, be glad you’re not a godwit.Each year around this time, tens of thousands of bar-tailed godwits migrate from Alaska to New Zealand and Australia. The 7,000-mile journey — the longest nonstop migration of any land bird — is completed in eight to 10 days of continuous flapping without stopping to eat, drink or rest.

The godwit’s ordeal is so extreme that, as one recent paper put it, it challenges “underlying assumptions of bird physiology.” Before the bird takes off, its organs shrink, its pectoral muscles grow, and it gobbles up insects, worms and mollusks to store fat for the long journey. One scientist called the godwits “obese super athletes.”

— Matthew Cullen, Evening Briefing, NY Times. September 20, 2022. 

Driving I-95 S. Through another sh*tstorm…

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Monday. 5:55 a.m. I-95 S in morning drive to work. I was moving too fast to snap a shot so you’re stuck with that photo of I-95, but it’s North-bound, mid-afternoon, in bumper to bumper traffic several weeks earlier.

Back to Monday morning, and this commuter’s meditation. The hum of tire rotation on pavement. A/C chilling the cabin. Instrumental music from Iceland’s greatest export, Ólafur Arnalds.

12 minutes from the office.

Pre-rush hour traffic flowing smoothly.  75 mph, and ~4 car lengths behind the car in front.  I shift in seat, unable to find sweet spot to ease the lower back pain. It could be worse.  Tune ends, playlist skips to next Arnalds’ track. Rob Roberge: “Words can intrude when the body wants to take over. Lyrics make you think—music helps you just feel.”

Then…tail lights from car in front flicker once. Then twice. Then solid red.  Slowing in speed lane on I-95? Amygdala on high alert.  I tap the brakes, eyes scan the roadway. And there she comes: Bambi.  No. No. No.  She’s looking to cross 6 lanes of highway, 3 lanes separated by 5-foot concrete divider.

I lift my right hand the from gear stick, ready to shield myself as she comes through the windshield. My left clenches the steering wheel. And then super-slo-mo.

She dodges the car in front.

There’s a soft thump on my passenger side rear fender.

I see her clear the divider with a foot to spare…and can’t bear to watch any longer to see if she cleared oncoming traffic heading North.

Yanko Flores (The Morning Show): “There is nothing you can do to stop the wind from blowing. So what can you do…? You just keep on moving. And you brace yourself for the shitstorm.”

I turn my attention back to I-95. I find both hands clutching the steering wheel, and can’t seem to release.

I keep on moving…

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call (& I-95 S)

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(Snoopy going to work by Banksy) via Wait – What?)