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 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 the sublime way that free-radicals often do while on their wistful search for the strongest bonds that will exalt their existence.
I see the faces of strangers who provoke implacable feelings within me; strangers containing fragments of my own splintered soul who’ve been supplanted here from previous incarnations into a passerby’s fusing nucleus-of-spirit, as if these strangers are mighty conquerers of time who’ve come to visit 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.
I’ve become a tight and infinite circuit, replaying nostalgic bits and observing the world as a disembodied yet fully present being. 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’s been evaporated, condensed, transformed and now precipitates before my cobalt-blue eyes in a radiating haze of sentimentality.
Sometimes these people appear to be irresistible and cunning and I start to wonder if they are, in effect, demons who’ve come to disarm/derail/disillusion me, but sometimes these people seem genuinely wholesome, 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. This 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 they all breathe fire into me. I recall that each moment when these revenants manifested, it felt as if a series of deep tectonic gears had suddenly all clicked into place. Most of these people have no idea of their geologic impact, of the mountains inside me they moved.
Perhaps rather than these strangers being on some malevolent-to-divine spectrum, they are, in effect, mirrors revealing different inverted truths within that I am projecting onto them. Perhaps this is why it’s fundamental to human nature to go through perpetual chemical formation: we are made of cascading polarities that lay dormant as potential energy until we are exposed to the right external stimulus.
These unscheduled incidents deconstruct my consolidated sense-of-self and remove the filters constraining my conscious awareness and let unprocessed information illuminate insight-after-insight by creating hyper-connections across my corpus-callosum with encounters that create loops between cerebral regions that never had any prior association beforehand. Encounters can create quantum sensations where a stranger’s CNS synchronizes with mine and we begin to pulsate information back-and-forth until we fuse energetically into one and fragments of unrelated origin begin to create a latticework of eloquent composition that reveals a simultaneously mystifying yet lucid recognition of the unified state-of-life. This is what I call ‘The Latticework’, and as it galvanizes, it also dismantles my previously rendered perception-of-reality with regard to both my autobiographical-self and the anthropological-whole. In retrospect, all events/persons/ideas eventually ooze into one, and prospectively, all the same disperses outward into the 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 and each fragment awaits that which makes them whole. As if life is just one big Cinderella story, we are all on an endless quest to find the lost foot to the empty shoe we hold.