Written by Aaron French
I tap into the pulse of cities, ride their swells, feel them breathe. I become a single catalytic force within civilization’s greatest engine of social-interaction.
I’m the kind of person to whom feelings are more important than logic. I seek exhilaration. This essentially means my walls are pretty thin, and that I’m willing to take risks, and that I subscribe to psychically relieving mantras that drum to unearthly beats.
I see familiar faces floating by, seeking out a home in the world, in earnest, in the sublime way that free-radicals do while on their wistful search for the strongest bonds that will exalt their existence.
I see faces of strangers who provoke implacable feelings within me; strangers who contain fragments of my own splintered soul, transmuted somehow from previous incarnations and into a passerby’s fusing nucleus-of-spirit.
As if these strangers once conquered time and visited me through what are now the absent portals in my forgotten recollections.
I’m left with abandoned vacuums, holes bored through my brain, unraveled neurons sprawled out like morning leaves reaching for dew. Familiarity billows, subtly rumbles the earth beneath. I become a tight and infinite circuit, replaying nostalgic bits over-and-over-and-over, observing the world through a one way mirror. Disembodied, yet fully present. Some god somewhere extracted something within that it now uses to magnetically summon my extraordinary captivation.
What I see in strangers is, in fact, something of me that has been evaporated, condensed, transformed, and now precipitates before my cobalt-blue eyes in an eerie, radiating, sprinkler-like-haze of sentimentality.
Sometimes, these people appear to be irresistible and cunning and I start to wonder if they are, in effect, demons, with the main motive to disarm/derail/disillusion me; but sometimes these people seem downright genuine, as if they’ve come to offer me ascension.
The most powerful demons tend to appear as the most fascinating apparitions. I arrange these seminal engagements along a spectrum of likelihood as to whether they’ll wind up as fortuitous or diabolical encounters.
The spectrum is always dreadfully unpredictable; it’s deviant, and in a sense, circular. The stranger-identification-angel-demon-criteria seems to coalesce with increasing voltage in accordance with the heightening electromagnetic power a person puts off.
These people bring absolute chaos into life, yet all of these run-ins breathe fire into me. I recall each moment these revenants within manifested; as if a series of deep tectonic gears suddenly all clicked into place. Most of these people have no idea of their geologic impact, of the mountains inside me they moved.
I’m convinced that rather than these strangers being on some sort of malevolent-to-divine spectrum, they are, in effect, mirrors revealing different inverted truths within that I am projecting onto them.
Perhaps this is why human nature is in such perpetual chemical formation — we are made of cascading polarities that never come to fruition until they are exposed by some external stimulus.
These unscheduled incidents deconstruct my consolidated sense-of-self and remove the filters constraining my conscious awareness, letting unprocessed information illuminate insight-after-insight by creating hyper-connections across my corpus-callosum. Encounters can create loops between cerebral regions that never had any prior association. Encounters can create a quantum sensation where a stranger’s CNS is synchronized with mine and we are pulsing information back-and-forth between one another, fusing into one.
Suddenly, fragments of seemingly unrelated origin create a latticework of eloquent composition that reveals a simultaneously mystifying yet lucid recognition of the unified state-of-life.
This lattice, as it galvanizes, also dismantles my previously rendered perception-of-reality w/r/t both my autobiographical-self and the anthropological-whole. In retrospect, all events/persons/ideas eventually ooze into one another, and prospectively, all ripples disperse into a boundless unknown.
This familiar sensation towards which unnamed dimensions lure us reveals that each momentary choice is a nudge along the whole and infinite flow in which our internal restlessness seeks a complimentary integration, i.e. we are catalysts in constant search of our appropriate receptors.
People, places and ideas are fragmented everywhere, always waiting for us to find them and make them whole. As if life is just one big Cinderella story, we’re on an endless subconscious quest to find the lost foot to the empty shoe we hold.