Flash Mobs

I am

Running down an escalator. Not so much running, as a controlled fall; my heels strike the edges of the steps just hard enough to propel me forward to continue my descent. I am listening to Superheros by Daft Punk on my headphones. Pew pew pew pew pew.

Sitting in the crawlspace under my house in Missouri. It is dark and wet and salamanders slide between the pools of water that have accumulated in the thick clay soil. I am devising plans for my escape back to Toronto. I carefully diagram each plan with a green coloured pencil in my spiral notebook. None of these plans are viable; I lack an adequate understanding of physics, or perhaps, am engaging in a little too much wishful thinking.

Skating in circles, alone on the rink. Reading a book in the softball sand in the setting sun. Studying for my AP exams in a concession stand on the edge of an abandoned but well lit football field. Attempting to float while the vacuum robot churns happily away on the bottom of the city pool.

Sitting on a bench in a metro station, feeling just as comfortable as I ever have in my own room. My walls, my floor, my trains.

Using a small stick to poke a hole in a bag of grass seed, which a man is trying to sell to my mother. A month later there is a bright strip of newly sprouted grass down the middle of our, otherwise barren, Urbana lawn.

Lying, limp, in a snow drift. Giant snowflakes are streaking across my field of vision; illuminated in amber streetlights set against a pink, city-glow, sky. I am drun, and think I am warm because of it. I resolve to skip my classes, which turn out to be canceled anyway.

Standing on a rock surrounded by cold spring-morning water. I woke up early with another boy at the retreat. We are looking upstream at the rays of the early sun catching on the spray of a small waterfall before reflecting in infinite directions on the rapids below.

Running up an escalator. The arches of my feet touch the edge of the steps so my heels hang free. I can see blue light in a narrow ellipse above. I am listening to Face to Face by Daft Punk on my headphones. Dun dundund dun dun.

I am on the internet

I need to go to bed.

Spring Cleaning

I've long had an internal superstition. Whenever I randomly recall something, I am terrified that I am only remembering it because my brain has decided to delete it. I concentrate as hard as I can to commit that thought back into my memory in order to hold on to it. I have no idea if I am successful or not. When I think back, I can never remember what it was that I was trying not to remember for the last time.

It could be a random fact, a place of beauty, an inside jokes, the smell of dust settling through a ray of sun. Are they gone? Am I basing myself off of a foundation that no longer remains?

Brapadap

I've taken to using two tea bags per cup of tea. This is a slipper slope, an incredibly satisfying slippery slope.

Now that it is warmer out I wake up to a new life every morning. It's the same feeling as waking up for the last day of school.

I'm pretty sure that everybody in this town was hibernating too.

This video makes me want to have children.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSjRRswSEgE&feature=related