It is a fairly typical conversation amongst people who really wonder about the world. For the most part, it has occured before, and will surely occur again--if not in the same words, at least in the same subject matter--to people all around the world. They speak of perfect government, of agnosticism, music, totalitarianism, christianity, authority, death, buddism (I know I spelled the wrong), history, atheism, the school system, psychology, anarchy, corporations, and many, many more subjects, all the while enjoying themselves immensely.
At some point in this conversation, somebody, while in the midst of a lengthy diatribe, pauses, stares concentratedly at the fire, and finally shakes his head. "Damn," he says, "I lost my train of thought."
This, then, is the origin and purpose of this website. It is not that the Depot is itself devoid of thought, but rather, you arrive, empty of thought, and here, hopefully, you find a new thought train to take you away.The scene is a mountainside, perched far above the floor of the Grande Ronde valley. The year is 1996, late summer. The slope is covered by densely packed conifers and scrub brush, with the occasional outcrop of basalt rock. In a small clearing by a stream, a campfire is burning low. About this fire sit five teenagers, not quite in their right minds, discussing the nature of life, the universe, and everything.
This, of course, begins a whole new level of discussion. "Is a thought a train, then?" they ask. "If you change the subject, are you getting on a new train?" "What happens while you are waiting for a new train of thought to come along?" The answer, it is decided, is that you go to the thought-train station, or in other words, the Depot Devoid of Thought. There you wait for the next thought-train to arrive and take you away. At the Depot, your mind is a blank, empty, Devoid of Thought. There's even a restaurant there, one of those greasy train station/truck stop style cafes, called "The Slightest," as in, "I haven't the slightest."
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