h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Here's my 6 August train of thought:

This morning, I had a weird dream. I and some unidentified companions were exploring a pocket universe we found behind a door at what looked like a big and otherwise empty hangar. The pocket world had sunlight, lots of water, a jetty, boats: strange creatures that looked like electronic devices kept jumping up like Asian flying carp. I batted them away. We went back out the door, only to be accosted by security people, who took us to a control room where a nerd was presiding over a roomful of computer monitors.

'How did you get into my universe?' he demanded. We shrugged. He didn't seem to care, really, but he wanted to know, 'What's it like? I haven't been able to get anyone in there to tell me about it.'

My mental wake-up radio was playing 'There's a New World Coming' as I rolled out of bed, accompanied by frisky miniature dog.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qlOFN2SYaEk

The Gheorgheni Wildlife Sanctuary is going great guns. The birds are all over that new bird feeder that looks like a red barn. They are peaceable, too, even the bluejays, a whole family of them. The little birds also get seeds from the small feeder hanging on the porch, and they all go for the Suet Cow that hangs there, too.

The new thing is the hummingbird feeder. It has sugar water in it, which hummingbirds like. They hover like bright helicopters, dancing in the air while they stick their long beaks into the tiny holes that have little yellow plastic 'flowers' around them. Apparently, to feed hummingbirds, you have to mimic the natural experience, but not too realistically.

The birds are all over the porch, even as we sit there. Chippie the chipmunk dashes around our feet, flashing his sporty racing stripes among the potted petunias. This is much more fun than the cinema, so no wonder we're glad to be home on a Saturday morning.

The birds and small mammal brigade all seem to be wearing their most purposeful clothes. Everybody's dressed for success, one way or another.

Which led me to thinking about the video I'd just seen, of Stephen Colbert talking (and dueling) with an Olympic fencer from the US:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xs8O-MFu4yU

The bit was very funny, and my first thought about the chat show host was, 'Aw, cheater! I'll bet you took Stage Combat 101 at uni. No way you just did that, I've had fencing lessons, too, you know.' After all, the last movie fencer who *didn't* have prior training was the astounding Danny Kaye, and Basil Rathbone said he was surprised at how good Kaye was:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3oURsGzs9o

My Yiddish professor in Pittsburgh used to go to Danny Kaye's high school in New York City. She said he was Danny Kaminski back then, and he got thrown out of school. Why, I asked. 'You know what he does in movies? He did that in school, too.'

But my next thought was admiration for Ibtihaj Muhammad, and not just for her fencing. She's showing people that the hijab is a choice, and it can be feminist. A hijab's not a chador or burqa. A hijab is dressing like the ancient Persians: nothing but the face and hands showing. It's saying, 'Who says you get to stare at me and judge me for my fashion sense, weight, hairstyle, and other ephemera? You get to look at what I choose to show: my facial expression and my actions. Get over it.'

A hijab allows women to separate public and private worlds on their own terms. Men ought to try it, too. It might improve the landscape, especially in the summertime. (If that middle-aged guy thinks he looks hot in those baggy cargo shorts, he's deluded...)

And yeah, she's a great fencer and a brave woman to go down to Rio. I'd be worried about thieves, bugs, pollution, you name it. I hope she wins something.

The train of thought has arrived at the station of lunch. Next stop, cheese and crackers.

Go punch your own ticket on the train of thought. But remember: there's a new world coming, the song said so:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIxfRsD560w

Gheorgheni Wildlife Sanctuary build a decent size kennel, co's when I can afford it, I'm moving theresounds a nice world to be in

I'll bring a sleeping bag of course, as long as the rent ain't high

There are campgrounds all around. You can camp in the woods if you aren't afraid of the bears...

nah! US animals stick together we've a big union you know

I love the trains of thought and the wildlife news!

I've always enjoyed trains of thought. Even when they run late. You can sit and wait for them in the station café and eat crisps and chocolate bars , whilst enjoying other trains of thought. Eventually you end up in a place far away from where you thought you were going, over the edge of the map in fact.

What am I on about?

Just following a spontaneous train of thought. .

I always did wonder about the places that exist beyond the edge of the map. If the place you're trying to get to seems to be in the space between the two pages of the road atlas, you fall down into it and end up somewhere else entirely, and all the streets and houses look funny.

I like that. You could make a story of that.

Or a computer game.

Be sure to check out this month's Create...it was designed with you in mind...

I tried to train a thought, couldn't get it to sit or roll over

~ ~ My train of thought is usually on the wrong tract, running late and has no caboose.

I was wondering last night, is a train of thought different to a meandering daydream? Interesting phrase, train of thought.

I am prone to meandering daydreams but do I have the right ticket for a train of thought?

Is a train of thought an interactive situation, like in a debate or conference. Thinking along the same lines as someone else or shared ideas that are on the right track.

In other words, do lots of people get on the same train?



I'm also wondering how come I can't open the I'm Not A Robot pictures on my tablet so I can't log in to the hootoo whereas I can login on my phone because I'm on it right now. I can't hardly see the screen but hey .. It must be something I need to tick or untick on my tablet ...

Anyway ..back to trains of thought ....

Searching the loft for a roll of wallpaper to replace the bit the cats have shredded...train of thought goes...how can one woman collect so much wool....oh old photos...more bloody wool...how can one woman have so many bags...wonder if there's a forgotten tenner in there somewhere...nope just more balls of yarn..oh look more photos...would've been my granddad's birthday this week..oh look bags full of material...and wool....think I'll restore some old photos later...that bag must be her special multicoloured yarn stash.....wow, wondered where that old bike jacket was.....I'll just pick a few tatty black and whites to take downstairs.....now what did I come up here for?

Ooh I sorted out my login problem which is good because I love all these trains of thought.

And in my real life I'm stressed right now so this is a wonderful healing h2g2 diversion, or maybe not a diversion, maybe it's a space for communication.

So back to thinking about the interactive nature of trains of thought.

Can I board your train if you can board mine? I'll save you a seat and some cider from the buffet car.

My thoughts on what a train of thought actually is are currently becoming more confused and yet more exciting.

I'm thinking the key is communication. We can be on completely different tracks or lines of thought and yet be on the same train ...



Or not.

Incredibly interesting conclusions on the meaning of the phrase 'train of thought', which came to me whilst purchasing a cheese in the supermarket just now.



Perhaps .....

.....there are conclusive trains of thought, using for decision making, like in a conference. Someone thinks along certain lines, puts his/her thoughts to the meeting. Someone else gets on the same track and between them, by merging trains of thought, they reach a destination, a decision, previously unknown.

Or else the meeting ends in disarray and they all stomp out and get drunk in the pub. Which is completely irrelevant right now.



Then there's a private, often abstract, sometimes creative train of thought, which can take itself on a journey ...

...this squashed apricot in my shopping bag not only has made all my shopping sticky but it reminds me of that sunset in Brighton last week. So orange! More than orange! How would I describe it? There's no word to describe orange. I think I'll give up writing. I'm a failed poet. And yet if I give up writing I'll get homesick for my world, even if my world is very sticky right now.

So I could share my journey, my train of thought, with someone else ... and they might tell me a word to describe orange and we could become two creative minds out on the same trail, that briefly become one mind, and we could discover unexplored horizons.

Except this doesn't really happen in my life, usually people make excuses, like tea appointments with imaginary Aunts.



Hmm. I think I'll go and eat a slice of the cheese I just bought.

An orange so spectacular it could be shrink wrapped and put on the Everday Basic Value supermarket cheese shelf? They're serving sausage and egg butties on my train at the moment....

I have been, er, privileged to witness some spectacular derailments of thought lately...the pastor has been on extended travels, and thus we've had volunteers 'supplying' the pulpit...

Sunday's service ran considerably overtime due to runaway metaphors, as
'The husbandman that laboureth must be first partaker of the fruits' gave rise to an excursis on tobacco farming.

http://www.quora.com/Where-does-the-expression-train-of-thought-originate

how did he know to call it "train" there wasn't any in his day

I have read the term 'train' in many historical accounts referring to a group of wagons traveling together. Particularly a military baggage train. They did not travel on tracks, but they did have ruts in the road that the wheels followed. The standard gage (width between the rails) of a modern railway is often attributed the width of Roman chariot wheels.

F S

The Son of God goes forth to war, a kingly crown to gain,
His blood-red banner streams afar, who follows in his train?

Hymn from 1812.

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