Black rubber upon hot, gray asphalt was my view in front as I rode my bike down to the rail yard this afternoon. Thunder rumbled all around me like great gods bowling in the sky, but it never did rain. I was feeling far too hot and lazy by the time I reached the rails to peddle any further. I hid my bike in the brush beside the tracks and just walked. Down past that old cotton mill I traversed as the sound of a far off train horn wailed. It would soon arrive to find me well off the tracks to watch as the engineer waved. I waved back like some 8-year-old overjoyed at the attention. Off to Atlanta, the train was headed, laden with a 50 car load of coal. No doubt to power the hundreds of thousands of homes surrounding that huge city.
I love days like today when I don't have a care in the world. I get to relive my favorite moments from childhood and gather my thoughts as I think and talk to myself. My greatest elation and deepest fears are worked out on my walks upon the rails. I will have these vivid conversations within my mind of how things are going and where I want them to be in a month or a year. It truly is the best form of mental masturbation I have found.
This afternoon, I arrived home hot and sweaty and climbed into a lukewarm shower. It felt wonderful and I love that smell of Irish Spring soap after emerging and toweling off. It will waft out of the bathroom of my small house making it smell so masculine, clean, and fresh. I put on some clean clothes and stood out on my back deck smoking a cigarillo to be greeted by Joyce. She said she was feeling much better today and asked me a hundred questions about making money on the Internet. She works for her church two hours a day and the stress, she feels, is too much. "First, you have to have a computer," I said stating the glaringly obvious. We both laughed. "Second, it takes a great deal of luck as well," I told her. "As with anything, you get out of it what you put into it." Joyce then asked me if she could come over later in the week for me to show her how. It will be a lost cause, but I told her I would. Joyce told me her computer was running Windows 98. I almost choked on the pull of smoke from my cigarillo as she said that. "I only use it to play solitaire," she said.