And I flew over the city...
I had this dream when I was little. I dreamt I was a bird. No seriously. This is a true story, my Ma told me. I would get up every morning and describe to her this ever changing, ever evolving, but always elaborate dream where I was a bird. I was a bird and I'd look down on the town and the people I knew and sometimes I'd get a little something to eat. I was a creative kid, huh?
I was also a mirror writer when I was a child. This is true, my Ma also told me this. When I was a child I would write backwards, not dyslexic backwards, but mirror backwards. Like if you held up my papers infront of a mirror it'd be readable. How bizzare is that?
In the early days of November or the late days of October my Dad gave me a phone call. As I rarely if ever get out of the blue phone calls from my Dad I curiously but not rudely asked what had inspired him to call me. He told me that he was out on a balcony for a smoke when two little sparrows came and landed on his balcony. He felt bad for them because they looked cold and they hung close to each other. He told me that he called me because when he looked at those little birds he thought of Glenn and I.
These memories, they don't really count because they're not mine. They're just my memories of hearing stories that were someone else's memories.
These memories, they're the equivalent of the way you see yourself when you're in a bathroom that has mirrors on its opposite walls. You see yourself a million times over. Front and back, front and back. Over and over and over, but none of it's really you. And then still in that one single moment, looking into that mirror, looking back and back and back at you...in that one second you feel infinte. Never-ending. And then it's over because you remember that none of it's really you.
All this talk about the infinite, and birds, and backwards writing well none of it means anything. None of it has anything to do with anything, I think it's just because I nearly died this week. Yeah no kidding. And right now my face aches from windburn and I've got twitches in my arms from nicotine withdrawl and I'm a little too old to change my ways but my body's a little too young to feel like this. I nearly died on Thursday. Wow.
I was walking the streets of Chi-town. Running late and rushing a bit. I was bundled up in two pairs of socks, two pairs of gloves, a hoodie, my pea coat, my Ma's scarf, and my ear muffs. I was still cold. Then I hear the loudest crashing noise ever and I stopped in my tracks. Oddly, my head snapped towards the street thinking "car accident", and then I noticed that my left foot felt extremely cold. So I looked down and there resting against my shoe was a fifty pound chunk of ice that had fallen from the Columbia building. I starred. One step over, and yeah, it would've crushed my head. And I starred. And in that second I felt infinite. Then there were the passerby's with the perfunctory,
"Oh my God!"s
and,
"You're SO lucky!"s
Bill who was three steps behind me ran over and clapped me on the back,
"Holy Fuck!" He said, "Just holy fuck!"
I couldn't stop starring at that ice. And then I laughed and I couldn't stop laughing. I laughed myself sick. And walked to school. I almost died without even getting hurt. Nobody walking in this life time beside me will ever find this as funny as I do. One step over and I'd be dead right now. Just one step. I walked to school the rest of the way quickly. I never looked up once. I never want to know what's going to hit me. Remember, que sera, sera? Whatever will be, will be.
I'm infiinite. I'm a bird. I'm a mirror writer. A back to back to back to back reflection, going on forever. So who's up to joining me? Who wants to hang out with me and drink like Hemmingway and smoke like Reedus? Just a word of advice stay to the right of me and you'll be infinite too.
Reflecting on life,
MFB
I was also a mirror writer when I was a child. This is true, my Ma also told me this. When I was a child I would write backwards, not dyslexic backwards, but mirror backwards. Like if you held up my papers infront of a mirror it'd be readable. How bizzare is that?
In the early days of November or the late days of October my Dad gave me a phone call. As I rarely if ever get out of the blue phone calls from my Dad I curiously but not rudely asked what had inspired him to call me. He told me that he was out on a balcony for a smoke when two little sparrows came and landed on his balcony. He felt bad for them because they looked cold and they hung close to each other. He told me that he called me because when he looked at those little birds he thought of Glenn and I.
These memories, they don't really count because they're not mine. They're just my memories of hearing stories that were someone else's memories.
These memories, they're the equivalent of the way you see yourself when you're in a bathroom that has mirrors on its opposite walls. You see yourself a million times over. Front and back, front and back. Over and over and over, but none of it's really you. And then still in that one single moment, looking into that mirror, looking back and back and back at you...in that one second you feel infinte. Never-ending. And then it's over because you remember that none of it's really you.
All this talk about the infinite, and birds, and backwards writing well none of it means anything. None of it has anything to do with anything, I think it's just because I nearly died this week. Yeah no kidding. And right now my face aches from windburn and I've got twitches in my arms from nicotine withdrawl and I'm a little too old to change my ways but my body's a little too young to feel like this. I nearly died on Thursday. Wow.
I was walking the streets of Chi-town. Running late and rushing a bit. I was bundled up in two pairs of socks, two pairs of gloves, a hoodie, my pea coat, my Ma's scarf, and my ear muffs. I was still cold. Then I hear the loudest crashing noise ever and I stopped in my tracks. Oddly, my head snapped towards the street thinking "car accident", and then I noticed that my left foot felt extremely cold. So I looked down and there resting against my shoe was a fifty pound chunk of ice that had fallen from the Columbia building. I starred. One step over, and yeah, it would've crushed my head. And I starred. And in that second I felt infinite. Then there were the passerby's with the perfunctory,
"Oh my God!"s
and,
"You're SO lucky!"s
Bill who was three steps behind me ran over and clapped me on the back,
"Holy Fuck!" He said, "Just holy fuck!"
I couldn't stop starring at that ice. And then I laughed and I couldn't stop laughing. I laughed myself sick. And walked to school. I almost died without even getting hurt. Nobody walking in this life time beside me will ever find this as funny as I do. One step over and I'd be dead right now. Just one step. I walked to school the rest of the way quickly. I never looked up once. I never want to know what's going to hit me. Remember, que sera, sera? Whatever will be, will be.
I'm infiinite. I'm a bird. I'm a mirror writer. A back to back to back to back reflection, going on forever. So who's up to joining me? Who wants to hang out with me and drink like Hemmingway and smoke like Reedus? Just a word of advice stay to the right of me and you'll be infinite too.
Reflecting on life,
MFB