Friday, August 20, 2010

The Feeling

There it is again. That feeling, that sense. It isn’t quite déjà vu or promnesia or whatever the kids are calling it these days but there’s a certain familiarity swirling around.

Maybe it’s just me. I look for patterns in things, repetitions, tenuous links and strange coincidences.

I think the conspiracy theorist in me would love it all to be true, but that probably isn’t going to happen. Still, a boy can dream can’t he?

Sometimes it’s the things you say, maybe even the way you say them. The dark recess of my mind thinks ‘Ay, I know that line. I know that timing’ but the logical part steps in with ‘but you live in a part of the world were right now won’t happen for 14 hours’ so maybe I really don’t know you at all.

Sometimes you put things on a page that make me smile and laugh. They make me want the things that you want. Your ability to do that is amazing. The flip-side of that is that if you tell me about the bad things in your life I share your pain. I flinch, I mope and sometimes get teary.

But you local buggers are the ones that really get me. When I see your photos and recognise a street on my way to work, a café I have breakfast at, a bar I get legless at. That’s when it really spins me out.

Did you go there intentionally? Was that photo of the shoe store because you know I try on a different pair of runners there every week? Were you waiting for me to arrive or playing the cat-and-mouse game of trying to vanish before I emerged?

Then it hits me – the familiarity. It comes about not because of what you offer me, you offer the same thing to the world. It all happens because out of the world you had showed something that I wanted. Not the other way around.

You talk the same way people I know do. You wear the clothes I would wear. You explore the parts of town that I want to discover.

I know you’re close. You’ll continue to be around. Millions of people will pass through this city, but you’ll flow through the same veins as me and as such we’re connected. The physical mass of steel and concrete belies nothing of the colour and vibrancy that draws us together.

Maybe not the same time, maybe not the same place, fuck – it may not even be the same continent, but it is still there. Intangible, yet real.


Damien Oz said...

Why does this touch me?

I am not even entirely sure what it is about to be honest - but this post made me sad .....

Anonymous said...

Ommm......(tingle of temple bells in background...)
It happens because the people who follow your blog are likely to be attracted to the same sort of things as you, hang out in the same area, etc etc. (Except me - did it all years ago, moved on)
But beautifully written - your in the running for the Cosmic Prose Award.

Damien Oz said...

Michael- that comes across two different ways - which one did you intend?

Andrew said...

I'm sayin' nowt.

FletcherBeaver said...

Nice... being human

Adaptive Radiation said...

I know eactly what you mean.

Anonymous said...

Damien - no offense intended, probably an age thing - been there, done that. Great when it happens, these Cosmic Moments, but of no great significance beyond a stoned rave round a campfire up the bush.
And Mutant - twas well put, much better than "Like, wow, Cosmic man..... which a lot of it was - at least from fading memory. A wonderful construct.