There’s a nice new station for the trains in South Amboy. As we slowed down, paused for a couple moments to let some off and let some on, i looked out the window and noticed it. We started to pick up where we left off, the train I was on started rolling forward again, bouncing softly into the Jersey night, darkened windows speckled with the odd streetlight, or the channel markers from the passing bays and rivers. It’s already late, even in California where you could be sleeping, or just picking up to see my number on the caller ID and ignoring me. I’ve some random gig outside of Philadelphia tomorrow, some covers thing, and i’m pretty sure i’ll be thinking of you. I’ll probably load the sets with Van or Bruce tunes, romantic and melancholy, and I’ll smile as people make requests, and i pluck strings, inhaling and exhaling through some harmonicas, trying to make some tips or people happy, or keep my mind on other things.
Hazlet Station, once I think I got off here. Got picked up brought to some recording studio in a renovated factory, maybe even a slaughterhouse or something. It was a spooky building with a slow moving, horror movie elevator we all had to ride in. I spent the day playing music. First I started out pretty easy, just laying tracks down, playing simple bits, chords on the mandolin, nice. But as we proceeded along, I speckled it with the odd flourish, little channels from my soul, red and green flashing lights from the isolation booth. Things started to build with more complexity, there were challenges to my fingers, unrehearsed moves, new statements and I hoped they would come across well enough for those who had hired me and for myself.
By now I am deep into Monmouth County, nearing stations like Red Bank and the change in Long Branch, and then on to Bay Head, the last stop. So many times I have taken this train, at different times and in different seasons, and each time is new, but always so familiar. Maybe I’ll try you again. I know it’s late in California, but it isn’t too late. maybe you’re just out and couldn’t pick up. Maybe I’m just crazy, or lonely.
