On fire (another stream of consciousness)
I just listen to the slow-motion whine, and my head pounds at the slightest provocation. I move my head and I get this sharp pain; my eyes tear up a little bit and I think I was hit by something, but it never actually happened. I’m warm, listening to my heart beat and think about where I am this time. True, it’s the same place I’ve been for the last hour, but it seems different anyway. Maybe because it’s all still except for a faint hum and my right ear having pressure issues. I relax, and then the city just stops.
I want to be on that train whenever I get around to forcing myself to booking it. It’s all up in the air, and nothing is clear. My imagination is limited by perceived obligations: these are emotional investments in a future that I could imagine at one time and then second-guessed. If it means anything, I would just think about the road I’ve been on a few times already. It’s like when I go out to eat, I decide I’m craving a certain flavor, see things I want to try one day, and then return to what it is that originally brought me to the restaurant. This is a little silly, isn’t it.
I want to cross the continent sometime before we get ourselves into a new war, gas prices are astronomical, and the province of New Brunswick decides to charge a $1000 fee to any resident who dares escape its borders. I guess I’m a pessimist. Seriously, though: I want to make it up to Newfoundland and see the Pacific Ocean one of these days. I think of people that I’ve been keeping too much of a distance from. I don’t engage as much as I used to five years ago: even then, it was less than I did a few years before that. I toyed with having a reunion with friends in Halifax one time, before plans and work schedules and circumstance screwed around. I don’t put too much stock into meticulously planned get-togethers, though. I love lucking into an unexpected memorable evening the most.
I could write a book about the people I’ve had some great evenings with. The details are getting fuzzier, though. When this happens, it’s a sign I need to go out and create fresher memories. I just need to surrender to openness again, and shake off whatever weight that convenience and safety added to my spirit.