It’s interesting how a song can bring me back to a specific place and time, resurrecting old, almost forgotten memories and triggering emotions. Listening to a playlist on my iPod is like taking a trip on a time machine. A face here, a tear there. A laugh here, a touch there. My life is like a damn movie, with a soundtrack for every scene, on loop and shuffle, random yet always the same.
Yep. That sounds about right. Random yet always the same. Even in my excessively chaotic and unpredictable life there’s a sense of order. Chaotic order. How poetically fucked up.
Sometimes people notice my seemingly ever-present ennui and sometimes they ask me why. Other times they accuse me of withdrawing from the world and avoiding meeting new people and having new experiences, therefore causing my own weariness and boredom. Which of course, I have to admit I have been doing.
In my defense, however, just what exactly are these new people and new experiences? At the risk of sounding like an obstinate, pseudo-intellectual, dime-store-philosophic brat (which of course I am), ain’t they just the same old things in different packages? Simply modern-day, urbanised version of the Emperor’s New Clothes. Window-dressing. Frill. Puff. Smoke and mirrors and shadows and light. You can fashion sand into a mound or into a castle and it’ll still be sand. Just like people. Just like experiences. The good, the bad, the novel, the banal, the beautiful, the ugly, the light, the dark. People are still people and experiences are still experiences, finding their niche in the nooks and crannies of our compartmentalised, judgmental, categorical minds. Of course you can take things at face value and trade awareness for blissful ignorance. Your choice, really. You get what you pay for and pay for what you get.
And guess what, th-th-th-that’s all, folks!