I suddenly feel alienated and friendless. I mean I know there are people out there that might want to meet me, might want to catch up and chat, that might want to party, but I can’t seem to reach out to them. I can’t remember who they are, what their names are, what their numbers might be. Like I’ve been gagged and tied to a chair. Frozen in my living room watching mindless repeats of sitcoms that have long gone off air. Where you come on cue before the canned laughter does.
This social isolation has also meant that when I am out on the rare occasion I’m ending up very verbally challenged and so lost that people are either thinking I’m snooty or that I’m Helen Keller and im left in strange cold war type situations with some people.
Maybe it’s that time of the year again, when you’re partly in the middle of a new job and you’re not really sure where its headed and then you feel kinda stuck because the recession is on and its wise not to move your ass in any direction. So you stand still. And while standing still, strangely, you can suddenly picture exactly where you want to be.
It’s a blind spot of twinkling lights in an unknown fascinating city. It’s humming Bob Marley while walking down the sunny sandy driveway of Alidia’s in Baga, it’s a Madagascan band enthralling you in a small little underground pub in Shanghai. It’s somewhere between a Henry Miller novel and a Tom Robbins book. Between lazy dirty passion and satirical erotisism. Between the Tropic of Cancer and Villa Incognito.