“Chasing the Tram” is a collection of fragments from a kind of stream of consciousness diary that I kept during my year abroad in Mannheim, Germany. I have recently returned to them and have rearranged and rewritten them into segments that will be posted over the coming weeks and months. Here is the first, which I have named “Morning.” …
My childhood just flashed before my eyes. A little boy got over excited by the tram approaching. His mum pulling him back from the edge. That was me. Stood on Chippenham Station bridge. Legs shaking in excitement as a train passed underneath. Lovely. I smile at him and his mum. I DON’T WANT THE WORLD TO SEE ME. Good thinking song. In a good mood this morning. Long day today. For a student. Lots of old dears on this morning. Counting money. Going to the shops. I’ll do that. I like that idea. Waking up and being energised by the simplest thing. As I assume old people are. Every visit, delivery or newspaper is a thrill. Putting the bin out is a day’s highlight. It must be a simpler life. Only your fading memories to fill your mind. Life lived, time to reflect. I always look for people I know at Ullmenweg. It’s the first stop where it feels like you come out of the outskirts and into the central bubble of the city. I don’t like talking to people in the morning. It’s a thinking time. There is a sticker of Nelson Mandela on some kind of street cabinet. Odd. How do you celebrate the great man? Let’s bung him on a random object in the middle of Mannheim. It’s definitely Autumn now. Fantastic.
Not the nicest bit of Mannheim this. Bit grimy. Leaves blowing on track. And sprouts of ugly flowers. More like weeds. How do they grow on a tram track? Wonder what they’re called. Car horn pierces through the morning calm. Lots of that in Mannheim. Very European. Shop named McDoners. Shit name. I’d imagine shit Doner. Is that a park? Fucking fence all the way around it. Why are German parks like prisons? It’s like escaping Alcatraz if you fancy a picnic. Move the bag off the seat next to me. Always do it when the tram gets busy. It allows me a kind of distance. For the first few stops at least. Am I a loner? I don’t think so. I like being around people. Get energised by it. I just think I’m self-involved. Trapped in my own head. It’s better that way. The times I’ve thought intensely about someone else are the times I’ve lost my mind.
Thought about her this morning. I do a lot when I wake up. I think I must dream about her a lot. Honestly, I’d be a field day for a dream analyst. Some of the hidden symbolism in my dreams is startling. I dreamt I was having sex with a robot. But openly. In front of a room of people. And I was so aware I was being tested or evaluated. Talk about sexual insecurities. Jesus. Homeless people centred around a bench. Drinking. Half eleven in the morning. Nice touch. The face tattoos don’t help. As shit as my life could go, it’s some comfort to know I’ll never have a face tattoo. The drinking at half eleven is perhaps more likely. No sign of that yet though. Thankfully.
I want to go on a night out. Got the taste for it. Want to go for a walk along the river too. Just walk. See how far I can get. Good idea for a date. Who should I ask on a date? No one I know currently. Either they’re a friend, have a boyfriend or I don’t fancy them. Could ask Emma. Know she likes me. I don’t want to. Just no attraction. Shame. Schafweide. What did it remind Tony of? Footballer? Fuck’s sake. Can’t remember. It wasn’t anything like it. Probably why I can’t remember. Schokolade? Schindler? Fuck it. What about the girl from the other night? She wanted to dance with me. She did. Then she left. Thought she was getting a drink. Long drink. I love crossing the bridge. Right is more beautiful than left. You can see the tower. Right is country, Left is city. Black smoke reaching out to the sky. Like a Dickens Novel. Schofield! Fucking Schofield! Phil Schofield! That’s it! Silverfox. Will I be grey like him? I’m certainly going that way.
George F Brown 