Hey Y'all...... This is the G Train....... Heading to Church and 6th Avenue...... stand clear...... cos the doors are closing y'all.
The subway is a world unto its own. 30 degree heat engulfs you and pulls you down as you leave the above world of what at the moment is around 8-10 degrees. You better start peeling off the layers unless you want to pass out. The stations all stand with time on their side, a hideously beautiful sight. Once opulent or at least a consideration to the aesthetic, the walls are covered in once shiny tiles, mosaics rim the walls with patterns or form the stations name signage. Some stations even have sculptures or installations. However you know the sense of beauty is now an aged old woman, these once lush and considered designs are now somewhat buried under the leaking, um, "whatever that stuff is" from pipes, going somewhere. Everything is now layered with a film of grit, hiding the colour the brightness, created from the breath of fast paced people, the smokiness from fast paced trains, oil, litter, dust, it holds tight, a grumpy old ghost, that frames the history of artistry, pointing it out to keep reminding us of once was. Years of chewing gum, now black circular patti cakes have morphed and have become one with the ground, creating a distinct pattern of their own. The paints peels off the ceilings, in the shapes of autumn leaves threatening to fall from the tree, exposing the bare bones of the place.
The beauty of these places has now moved into it's passengers; all differently glorious and wonderful. Musicians play their bases and their sax with such pleasure on the platforms, leather pants, high hair dos, poor men and woman, stand as if on trial, pleading their cases as loudly as they can to a full carriage in the hope of at least one offering help. Skins of all colours ride this train together, different shapes and sizes, ages and dress types. Suits, NY yankees caps, velvet red pants, prams, shiny gold go go boots, square and sparkly diamond earrings, braided hair, shiny coloured weaves, dazzling bling, more prams, bright eyes shadow colours, gold teeth, nerd glasses of large proportions. The body seems to be a canvas in which the palate can create an infinity of looks and types. This plethora of individuals sit, stand, even squish together talking, singing, laughing, yelling, keeping to themselves with their ipods in their ears - a marketplace of possibilities really.
Each train guard covers a variety of accents, with not one you can understand properly. The smells of the place, although you would never describe as pleasant, has an all too distinct and familiar scent - it's now become the smell of going places, going home, going to work, going out, going to the park, going to the shops. Going anywhere, going fast, just going... 24 hours a day, 7 days a week - there is no shut eye for this old lady, yet she still stands strong.
PS so the line I am staying on is the G line. Probably the worst line ever. One has a love hate relationship with this line and from this there is now a blog dedicated to the g line (see below) and there is a pageant that is currently looking for Miss G train (also see below) Too funny
http://gloriousgtrainseries.blogspot.com/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wires/2009/11/13/williamsburg-miss-g-train_ws_357123.html
The subway is a world unto its own. 30 degree heat engulfs you and pulls you down as you leave the above world of what at the moment is around 8-10 degrees. You better start peeling off the layers unless you want to pass out. The stations all stand with time on their side, a hideously beautiful sight. Once opulent or at least a consideration to the aesthetic, the walls are covered in once shiny tiles, mosaics rim the walls with patterns or form the stations name signage. Some stations even have sculptures or installations. However you know the sense of beauty is now an aged old woman, these once lush and considered designs are now somewhat buried under the leaking, um, "whatever that stuff is" from pipes, going somewhere. Everything is now layered with a film of grit, hiding the colour the brightness, created from the breath of fast paced people, the smokiness from fast paced trains, oil, litter, dust, it holds tight, a grumpy old ghost, that frames the history of artistry, pointing it out to keep reminding us of once was. Years of chewing gum, now black circular patti cakes have morphed and have become one with the ground, creating a distinct pattern of their own. The paints peels off the ceilings, in the shapes of autumn leaves threatening to fall from the tree, exposing the bare bones of the place.
The beauty of these places has now moved into it's passengers; all differently glorious and wonderful. Musicians play their bases and their sax with such pleasure on the platforms, leather pants, high hair dos, poor men and woman, stand as if on trial, pleading their cases as loudly as they can to a full carriage in the hope of at least one offering help. Skins of all colours ride this train together, different shapes and sizes, ages and dress types. Suits, NY yankees caps, velvet red pants, prams, shiny gold go go boots, square and sparkly diamond earrings, braided hair, shiny coloured weaves, dazzling bling, more prams, bright eyes shadow colours, gold teeth, nerd glasses of large proportions. The body seems to be a canvas in which the palate can create an infinity of looks and types. This plethora of individuals sit, stand, even squish together talking, singing, laughing, yelling, keeping to themselves with their ipods in their ears - a marketplace of possibilities really.
Each train guard covers a variety of accents, with not one you can understand properly. The smells of the place, although you would never describe as pleasant, has an all too distinct and familiar scent - it's now become the smell of going places, going home, going to work, going out, going to the park, going to the shops. Going anywhere, going fast, just going... 24 hours a day, 7 days a week - there is no shut eye for this old lady, yet she still stands strong.
PS so the line I am staying on is the G line. Probably the worst line ever. One has a love hate relationship with this line and from this there is now a blog dedicated to the g line (see below) and there is a pageant that is currently looking for Miss G train (also see below) Too funny
http://gloriousgtrainseries.blogspot.com/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wires/2009/11/13/williamsburg-miss-g-train_ws_357123.html
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