No Exit
The city doesn't always sound so ugly; so busy. You just have to know where to look, and when.
Like jogging along side streets late in the evening, when lamp posts have gone about their work of casting shadows (oak, maple, etc.) against brick buildings.
I wonder sometimes when I'm fighting the urge to stop and observe further -- which would subsequently interrupt my jog -- if it's normal to marvel at these things. If it's normal to chuckle every time I see a "Speed Hump" sign. If it's normal to sometimes be so in awe of a tree's reflection that I can barely keep pace with my own shadow.
I sometimes worry, nauseous, that I'm on the verge of a sensory overload: like when I stop dead in my tracks and pause to listen to everything. To soak in the image of yellow leaves with a blue-gray sky behind them. Or as with tonight:
To clench my fists and rest my head upon them. To sit on a city bench and just wait -- hope -- that I'd fall asleep.
Wake up.
And find that days upon days had passed.
Labels:
city-living,
solitude
8 comments:
this is just overwhelmingly lovely. and no, it's not normal. but would you really want to be, live, exist any other way?
I really enjoy the little written vignettes you do, you have a natural fluidity of language...
I don't see anything wrong with any of this. I wouldn't say it is normal. Normality tends to revolve around ignoring your surroundings. I have pictures on my phone that are childish like the 'Speed Hump' sign. One is a license plate reading 'MR YANKY' and another picture on a train car that says 'DO NOT HUMP'. I laugh when I see that kind of stuff. Maybe I'm just a 5yr old. I still think farts are funny. I still find running in the woods here in PA during Fall is wondrous and I have a hard time concentrating on my form. Sounds like you are a little more appreciative of it than I am. Your reaction is pretty much how I felt when I hadn't seen the sun, trees, women, etc. for forty days. Quite possibly one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had. Glorious can't even touch the feeling. I'm guessing that is about how you feel. You just want to lay down and bask in it. It makes you feel like you've watched a Bob Ross marathon while getting a massage. Nothing wrong with any of that.
I often -not as often as I'd like, but often- react this way, not so much about "Speed Hump", but the marvelling at lamp post shadows part. I've never thought of it as normal or wondered if it was. In fact, I think you are the only other person I know who does it.
Sometimes I wish it were more normal. I wish people could see things as I see them, enjoy them as I enjoy them... SENSE them, so to speak. And I get frustrated when they can't or won't. But other times I'm comforted by the thought that it makes me unique.
Just be glad you have the special and equally uncommon gift of language that lets you share it with them.
The kind of sensory overload you describe sounds like a really great way to be overwhelmed.
Having recently visited Sin City (for the first, and possibly the last time), I can say that your sensory overload sounds sooo much more pleasant than the overload I suffered from there!
When you reach a certain age, that is exactly what you think must have happened. I don't remember living all those days.
Our Great Aunt will be 99 in April. She says that yesterday she was 23... or so it seems.
I hate the street lights that turn OFF as you approach. How insulting.
Are there really signs that say "Speed Hump"? Awesome.
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