the score

In the terminal:

There is a young male busker playing classical violin music

and a woman on the phone vociferously proclaiming her steadfastness in standing up to a purported aggressor.

I'm not sure which to fade underneath.

Fancy man

in a garment district building housing several fancy fashion companies enters restroom, relieves himself, checks/smooths hair in mirror, exists.

there is a glaring deficiency in the above list.

....?

While taking taking the F train to RI,

Having been in my current ill mood about career and personal life,

set partly on by a question from a compatriot

and otherwise by the sound of a conductor's regionalism

(which I think started as appreciation for it before turning to a recent regretted performance),

I stepped off the train, in no rush.

Seeing a shut-down escalator up, I passed by an available stairway up heading toward a working escalator. I looked forward and began to scan for that same conductor leaning out of his window watching for boarding riders. I saw him, and had a thought that he might see me sashaying past the stairway and knowing that seemingly perfectly able-bodied person was forgoing it for the ease of the escalator, and even taking his time in doing that. I then thought about how much I wasn't bothered if he thought that, and was tickled by the thought of my casualness.

As I passed by him, he spoke and I paused and removed the headphones playing Crossings to understand him.

"Keep your head up, brother, it'll get better."

I assured him I was fine and moved on.

It is interesting that he took a moment of lift from depression as depression.

It is interesting that my melancholy may be so pervasive that it has colored even my light times with dourness.

...seems about right...

Off to work!

Peace,

c w j