Scattered Words: If I just lay here

I saw her again today - on the train to London. She sat on the seat to my right, reading one of my favourite books.

I've been reading the same book for over a month now. The Ballad of the Sad Cafe by Carson McCullers. It's a wonderful book, but every time I begin to read it, my heart just aches. Really aches.

For over an hour I watch her gently caressing the pages. Every so often she pauses, lets out a gentle sigh, then gazes vaguely out of the window as yet another station blurs past.

There's a boy, I don't know anything about him, not even his name, but every Friday I find him sitting on the same train as me. I know it's just pure coincidence; I don't believe in fate - we make our own fate, but it's just so weird. And there's just something about him. He seems as lost as me. Don't ask me why - but I'm sure, if he were to sit with me for a while, that we'd connect. It's just so weird. It must be this darn book. 

Perhaps I should speak to her? Offer her some company. But what would I say?  I have nothing to say. And anyway, I'm sure that someone like her wouldn't wish to spend a never-ending hour idly chatting to a boy like me? No. Best to say nothing. God I'm such a fool. 

I'm tempted to just walk over to him and say hi. But then what would I say? He'd probably smile politely, think I was a complete idiot and then run away.  No. Best to say nothing. It's just this silly book playing tricks on my soul. God I'm such a fool.

Eventually the train arrives at our destination: Euston Station. I collect my things together, allow her to pass in front of me, and silently watch as she fades into the crowd.

I want to look back at him. I really want to look back. I wonder if he's watching me. Maybe if I slow down a bit he'll walk beside me. No, it's just the book, the silly book. I don't suppose he even noticed me.

Comments

[Kate]

Look back! You should look back!

[Jean]

Makes one wonder how many times this has happened... maybe even to me?

[An Unreliable Witness]

*doffs cap in return*

[jasmine]

hmmm...next Friday, I'm going to bring my copy of the book….. it’ll be interesting to see if its noticed

[guyana-gyal]

Drop a handkerchief at her feet.

[andre]

Oh what a marvelous idea - handkerchiefs.

I shall have to buy a nice silk one to match my velvet jacket.

[Rachel]

you should bring your book onto the train. see if she notices, if she does notice START TALKING MAN!

[Peach]

Try a smile with your eyes

[imogen]

Oh! Not Barthes. Dear goodness.

[andre]

oh but I could read that book for weeks

*swoon*

sign

[imogen]

i use barthes (mythologies) as part of the theoretical base for the spatial dialectic of violence that i develop and propose in my work. he does have so many interesting things to say about consciousness and discourse--image and representation--ideology and words.

sign.

i bet a lover's discourse would pair nicely with winterson's written on the body. hmmm. ah, love in the postmodern world.

[An Unreliable Witness]

How odd.

For almost the whole of the latter half of 2001, I only read two books. Repeatedly. Over and over again. And then again. And a bit more.

They were:

1. A Lover's Discourse, by Roland Barthes.
2. Written on the Body, by Jeanette Winterson.

What a year that was, 2001.

What a very, very screwed-up and suicidally unhappy person I was in the latter half of 2001.

[An Unreliable Witness]

Oh. Almost forgot.

sign.

[andre]

One must never forget to *sign* when Imogen is around.

[imogen]

!!

that *is* sign.

[andre]

sigh...

[An Unreliable Witnesss]

No! Sign! Not Sigh. Sigh is so 2006, don't you know?

[andre]

I have *signed* out of respect.

I have *sighed* because I love Imogen with all my heart. She is well fit!

[Artful Kisser]

This actually happened to me and yes, he brought his copy on the train the following day. Spastic talking ensued after much clumsiness. Can't say it was Barthes though...

[F B]

Sign, sigh, suck, whatever. Lose the subtitle, darling; it clutters up your clean delivery of random but touching words and images.

(Please try not to read that in the voice of my mother)

[andre]

oh the subtitle is not staying ... tis only temporary ... a fleeting thing that shall soon be gone. A bit like celebrity. But it does make me laugh - as does celebrity.

[Robin B]

This is most excellent Andre,I like the juxtaposition thingy
write a book man, you're clearly able

[F B]

That's ok then. I like to think of you laughing. Gaily, of course.

[andre]

Yes gaily.

I am a middle aged gay virgin me.

[Joy]

I love train rides. They always have something sad and nostalgic about them...

That, and I wished I could stab the stickler in me but "blurs passed"?

[Virg]

Did I ever tell you that my brother in law met his wife on a train ... they were clearly checking each other out like your story .. but as he departed the train he handed her a slip of paper with his phone number on it .. she obviously rang it ..the rest is history ... they've been married hmmm nearly 20 years now !!! so stranger things have happened ...

[annie]

*sulking*
*big time*

[andre]

why are you sulking?

[Amit]

Hi,
I love your style... do you mind if i add you to my links? i am a new blogger looking for some inspiration... thanks

[satish]

hmmm.... Its really interesting your part of story, but, i pls beg you to go talk to her the next time, when you see her, may be she too likes you, but, smone has to make a start, there's nothin wrong in making a try, but if u miss, just think....
I too had so many of such instances, if u really like smtin, u gotta take chances smtimes, take risk too, but this is just notin... so, pls do mail me, when u get to talk to her..... All the best!
Can I link you to mine?

[steven shade]

To do nothing about your own desire is a weakness, both persons on the train are weak both will eventually be dominated by stronger, courageous pesonalities.Go say hello you have nothing to loose.