Train of Thoughts

On the train to Katchathanburi, the last outpost before the River Kwai and the 'Death Railroad'.  More than 100,000 Asian laborers and Western POWs died in the making of the railway from Burma to Thailand – the Japanese needed a way to transport troops and supplies to the Indian front against the British & Allied forces in India. The oceans were susceptible to Allied warplanes, and the dense jungle offered the best defense against air raids and bombs.

Ok, that was a short history lesson. For more, you can dig up PBS' excellent account of the oft-forgotten tragedy and Japanese atrocities (with a dark if not funny view on how military leaders now still deny that they tortured, starved or mistreated POWs under their care.. )

So - back to this post - my thoughts on the train to Katchathanburi. Some of them random, some an attempt to knot the bunny ears on various scatterbrained thoughts on the trip thus far.. some of them silly in themselves.

Too bad I don't remember most of them, as I'm really a bad writer. It's somewhat annoying to jot down thoughts on the train.  There's so much going on outside the windows, inside the train (passengers expressions are infinitely interesting to me), and besides, too many shakes and rattles and bumps for my anal retentive desire to keep my journal neat and orderly.

The thoughts I do remember?

Finished Catch-22 at Phuket.  Read it in between Pree's copy of Confessions from a Bangkok Private Eye – a funny if somewhat repetitious account into the silly world of Thai girls for hire and their witless and somewhat funny farang boyfriends. Questions in my brain from Catch-22: If work is supposed to make me happy (getting the things I want) but then I'm not happy at my work, how does that work? So when I'm not working, it means I'm not happy, but then I have to work to be happy.. but then again, who really is happy at work?

Why does a Creator need adulation from the created? And what kind of twisted mind has in store infinite pain and suffering for lower beings who don't agree with Him? Sounds kind of petulant to me.

Is the world really run by moral rejectionists who cover themselves with the mantle of righteousness? Do good men and women have to lie, to cheat, to deny, to sin – in order to survive a world made rubbish by puerile needs for recognition, justification and absolution?

I just started Dead Souls by Gogol. More questions. What enclosures do I put up? Do my friends and community and society put up? What am I hiding? Does the ego hate the person that much? What is the meaning of language? Do I mean what I really say -- are words dangerous in the wrong hands? For instance: I just used puerile – would ignorant be a better choice? How about when people use love when they really meant respect – or hate when they really wanted to say disgusted? Logic instead of reason. Sad instead of afraid.

Lists.

So far, Joe and I have traveled on these forms of transport in three weeks (I won't try to remember all the different kinds of transport I've rode/ridden(?) in Asia): airplane, bus, van, car, truck, motorbike, train, songthaew, tuk-tuk, long-tail boat, fishing boat, bamboo raft, elephant, cyclo, bicycle, skytrain, subway, fins (scuba) and of course, our badly misshapen feet.

Traffic jams in Asia mean: meandering cows, impatient goats, scared chickens, apathetic ducks (and geese), snooty yaks, curious water buffaloes, noisy sheep, and the occasional grunting snorting sneezing wholly pleasantly pleased with themselves - pigs.

Smells from outside the train: peppermint, dung, blossom, roasted meats, cut grass, rubbish, smoke, earthandsky and summer rains.

Song on repeat: Iron & Wine's Sunset Soon Forgotten. What do you see when you listen to this song? I picture: Fade in. Pan shot: window with the outside blurred – moving past the inside fast. Abrupt change – the vision is swept outside the window then pulled backwards and up up up... zoom out: you're a kite, a balloon – mid-air, flying. You just got swept out of the train. Down below are dotted farmhouses and the yellow & green chessboard of wheat and corn, interrupted by ponds here and there. Move back. Through the clouds - they haze your vision for a minute. The train is still there, puffing smoke (it's one of those old locomotives, like the one in Harry Potter).  Is it smoke or the clouds? You can't tell, they bump and merge together. Undulation (that's an SAT word) – it's the wind – the breezy summer not-a-care-in-the-world kind of flow. Reminiscence of your first memories in the cradle, rocking to placental rhythms.  The horizon curves, like the long side of an egg – elliptical. The sun pops up and in like a balloon – it's floating alongside, then down down down, the air fizzles out, down down down, it glows orange, then glowers red – misting the trees and barns and hills in purples and pinks...

What do you see -- what are your favorite music videos to your favorite songs? Any best kept secrets -- any imaginations run wild that you would put to the reel if you had MTV or Fuse or V come knocking on your door?

Choo choo goes the train. Next stop: Katchathanburi.

That's some heavy reading you've been doing! When I hit the road, my attention span is only good enough to read funny, shallow works of comedic genius.

Oh, and I too find it difficult to write while riding on public transportation. I've done it a few times, but there are always too many hassles--a bumpy ride that makes it difficult to hand-write anything, nosy neighbors that would peer over your shoulder, etc. etc.

Posted by: sanguine smile | August 30, 2006 at 02:46 PM