vrijdag 16 maart 2012

Bahnhof

It’s an odd sensation: It’s Friday, 6pm, I’m inside Amsterdam Central Station. I’m running on 3 hours of sleep and a stern hangover, a full day of meetings behind me. But, as regulations stipulate, I’m not allowed to travel on my Discount Railway Pass until 6.30. Seeing my financial condition of late, I’d better wait it out. I’m munching on a bag of Fritos for lack of better things to do and, dead tired as I am, manage to wander a bit around the station. All around me people are moving faster than me, rushing to get home. Where was I going again? It takes me a while to process te question.

My legs feel awfully mushy. I notice I’m kind of pivotting on the spot. I pass the HEMA, I can smell the rookworst, and continue to wander into a bookstore. I stare blankly at the cover of Economist magazine, it speaks of a recovery of the financial crisis. I feel it’s only just begun for me, what with budget cuts and all. It’s hard being a man of culture these days. Being a cultured man in general is already a challenge these days. Having no money only adds to that. Nickelback is bruising my ears as I gaze at the station’s multimedia store. I wonder if I’d be able to describe the emptyness I’m feeling, once I jot it all down. Probably not.

On the platform, I see the Train à Grande Vitesse destination Paris. There’s a bunch of clowns already gathered at the bar of the restauration car. I guess they felt like getting right down to business. Who can blame ‘em? Travel and drink are a wholesome marriage. I wish I could have bought that Economist. A verse pops into my head, its from a Nits song, suits my state of mind. Getting away from it all seems a joy like no other when you’re down and out. Still, even in harsh times like these with just a handful of halfbaked ideas and the intention to dig out your soul, there’s silver lining.

Konichiwa! My guardian angel thank god is never far. I’m dead poor but full of joy when she’s around. I don’t deserve it, and can’t afford it, but I’m committed to trying my darnest and straightening out my shit. Even though no-one and no-thing will ever actually make me an above average man, inspiration strikes and suddenly I’m there: I’m that happy kid again.

I ponder these predicaments and blessings while everything around me is continuously in transit. Going one place, then the other. Then a train comes and takes me home.

Adieu, adieu sweet Bahnhof
My train of thought is leaving...

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