My World

  Age forces a certain amount of wisdom on you, if you want it or not. For a very few, it unleashes pure clarity. A clarity that's so overwhelming you want to separate yourself from almost all of this planets inhabitance, and their miscellaneous sea anchors that drag you down into their collective muck. Right now, the only world that I want to live in is my world.

  While riding the subway yesterday with a bunch of out of place troglodytic football fans, I began thinking about what the subway use to be, what it's become, and where it's heading. I also began to think of the secret passageways and the closed-off concourse tunnels that I could make my own.

  This isn't the first time I've made schematics in my head. A decade ago while still living in center city, I had a planned route down rat and garbage filled alleys.  Alleys that would take me a few miles through the heart of the city. A route full of texture and smells that was away from the self-absorbed hyper-normal zombies that infested the sidewalks on the surrounding streets. Those who didn't know how to walk down a city sidewalk or cross a street. Those who would slam into everyone like a pinball, while fixated on the tiny screen in their hands. These weren't my streets anymore and I wanted nothing to do with them.

  I'm beginning to have that strong feeling again and I'm wondering if it's time to forge a new path that's under the subway.