We all use handles here. Like bikers or truck drivers on c.b. radios. What's your lingo what's your travel what's your destination?
I thought of this in a drowsy half-sleep at four in the morning, the house all still and hushed, the rain rapping and pelting in rushes against the window. I walked with one eye closed to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the front door to let the dogs out and then I stood on the porch watching the spattering rain leaving small dark freckles on the porch and steps. The streetlamp cast a yellow light on the dark quiet street, people slumbering in their houses. The house down the street always has a television's eerie toxic blue flicker, some kind of nightmare brought out into the world. The droplets made me blink.
I heard only the sound of the rain and the wind. Sometimes I can hear the industry and bustle and trains and the freeway, but last night I heard the wind alone, high in the trees, lifting my hair and dismantling me of sleepy bed warmth. I called the dogs and locked the door and climbed again beneath the blankets.
Where are we going, and what are we doing here? I thought about a radio show I heard in which a physicist was asked about travel and drafting and drag, and he said the most efficient mode of travel is a group single file. The leader sets the course and the pace, and the followers travel in the draft of air created. But it benefits everyone: at speed, air is pushed above and to the sides, but then it swirls and eddies in turbulence behind a travelling object, generating drag on the object, which slows the object.
If another traveller is immediately behind the leader, then this drag is smoothed out over a longer span of time and space, and adds to the momentum of both. He said the more travellers in a line, the sleeker the travel. And yes the leader works a little harder by forcing into the wind, but those drafting must contend with the slowing force of the drag. It reminded me of drafting off semi trucks, of riding bicycles, of hearing trains whistle through the night.
I thought I ought to remember this before I fell back asleep, three more hours before the alarm. Sometimes thoughts at four a.m. don't translate into daytime.
We are all travelling. Do we follow or do we lead? And it's not a question of pride or performance or ability or intelligence. It's a question of where are we going? What is our purpose and destination?
I thought of this in a drowsy half-sleep at four in the morning, the house all still and hushed, the rain rapping and pelting in rushes against the window. I walked with one eye closed to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the front door to let the dogs out and then I stood on the porch watching the spattering rain leaving small dark freckles on the porch and steps. The streetlamp cast a yellow light on the dark quiet street, people slumbering in their houses. The house down the street always has a television's eerie toxic blue flicker, some kind of nightmare brought out into the world. The droplets made me blink.
I heard only the sound of the rain and the wind. Sometimes I can hear the industry and bustle and trains and the freeway, but last night I heard the wind alone, high in the trees, lifting my hair and dismantling me of sleepy bed warmth. I called the dogs and locked the door and climbed again beneath the blankets.
Where are we going, and what are we doing here? I thought about a radio show I heard in which a physicist was asked about travel and drafting and drag, and he said the most efficient mode of travel is a group single file. The leader sets the course and the pace, and the followers travel in the draft of air created. But it benefits everyone: at speed, air is pushed above and to the sides, but then it swirls and eddies in turbulence behind a travelling object, generating drag on the object, which slows the object.
If another traveller is immediately behind the leader, then this drag is smoothed out over a longer span of time and space, and adds to the momentum of both. He said the more travellers in a line, the sleeker the travel. And yes the leader works a little harder by forcing into the wind, but those drafting must contend with the slowing force of the drag. It reminded me of drafting off semi trucks, of riding bicycles, of hearing trains whistle through the night.
I thought I ought to remember this before I fell back asleep, three more hours before the alarm. Sometimes thoughts at four a.m. don't translate into daytime.
We are all travelling. Do we follow or do we lead? And it's not a question of pride or performance or ability or intelligence. It's a question of where are we going? What is our purpose and destination?
<< Home