The title of this blog is actually written on a large sign that stands over the railroad station. I just noticed it this morning. I’m not really sure what it means, but it both amuses and concerns me. Does this mean that the weather is controlled by the government in Redwood City? Or that the government somehow concocted some sort of “weather test” that determines whether a climate is “best”? And then what constitutes the best climate, versus a good climate, versus a passable climate? And when did this supposed test occur?
I’m a little sleepy this morning.
The train station smelled like freshly cut flowers. My mom told me last night that it was supposed to be 80 degrees today, but it’s cold and foggy and I’m underdressed. When a bullet train rushes past my stop, as it does every Tuesday and Thursday, the wind and the inertia of the train frightens me, even though I know it’s coming. I’m afraid that I’ll get dragged away. And the whipping wind was very cold this morning.
I visited M Fox’s hometown this past weekend and it made me want to be a writer again. I want to secure myself financially so that I can not work for awhile and focus on writing. I’ll finish my ideas for once. Nevada City/Grass Valley/Penn Valley reminded me of so many pieces of places I’ve seen before, so much that I had to concentrate on not thinking about somewhere else when I was there. It was a place of nostalgia. All the good parts of my childhood, all the streams and wet green trees and sleepy towns with sleepy people who talk to strangers when mini coopers crash through walls. Houses that were made for women to become mothers and then grandmothers. Lawns that were made for sprinklers in the summer. Parks for dogs and children. A town to grow old in. To watch your children grow, then leave, then come home again with girlfriends, then spouses, then more children. It made me daydream about Fourth of July.
There was a couple at the train station this morning. The man was walking a white and gray greyhound. I wondered if dogs were allowed on the train. They huddled together with their dog and spoke naturally to each other. When the train arrived, the woman said, “I’ll see you guys later” and boarded. The man walked away with the dog. I wonder if he walks her to the train station often. I’m trying to remember if I’ve seen them before. I thought it was interesting how they didn’t kiss goodbye. Not lovers, just friends? Or so familiar that a kiss is vulgar?
Reading slush today will be good. I’m in the mood for discovering.