April 21, 2002
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Every once in a while, like standing in the eye of a hurricane, life will give you just a glimpse of something profound if you're paying attention.
I just got back from the local Wal-Mart, it was close to midnight, which is really (in my humble opinion) the best time to hit up WallyWorld because the crowds are thinner. Be careful though, because if the store near you is like the one around here, they change cash drawers at around midnight, so keep that in mind and avoid a 15 minute wait in line listening to mom explain why the now-up-FAR-past-bedtime child mind cannot have this ring pop or that package of goop. You have been warned.
So I park the car and get out; I end up parking to the side, near some soda machines and lawn furniture displays. As I walk up, this profound feeling hits me...and at first I don't understand what it was. Then I notice, there is NOBODY around. Sure, there are plenty of cars on a Saturday night, but imagine a scene void of people were there should be some.
No cars on the street, no people walking in and out, no PA announcements; only the sounds of the soda machines and the nearest AC unit on the roof. A light, very nice breeze stirring the parking lot trash amongst the furniture displays in a disturbing dance of freedom. As if all the humans were finally gone and what we've left behind is finally rid of us and can do as it likes. Traffic lights like maniacal druid sentinels of a long forgotten religion, regulating the imaginary passage of vehicles in silent gestures of light and rhythm whose meaning only they still know. Soda machines patiently waiting to be awakened by a small bit of change; change that is perhaps even lying mockingly on the ground just below the slot, a forever unrequited promise that would never be fulfilled. The steady thrum of giant air conditioners, guardians of temperature and humidity majestically perched atop a mountain of steel and glass, their constant mantra materializing itself like a force of will, to keep the elements at bay and bestow the strength of their belief on the food within.
Just as this hollow and desolate feeling is materializing in my brain, reminding me of several scenes in The Omega Man, I turned the corner, and a teenager riding one of the motorized carts in a circle almost hits me, a profound humility keeps me from asking him if he wants to HAVE to use that thing on his next visit, and I realize just how much I miss every day. I'll have to watch that.
Comments (6)
Sometimes I feel like the only times my thoughts are not diluted is when I am alone in the quiet...
Hey Zane, sounds like a scene out of 'The Matrix' myself. Also, your views on my site hit home..have the same feelings. Funny when I write a poem or short story and expect response, nothing. But when I enter my thoughts on the evils of banks, BOOM BABY! Go figure.
Aviv
Im going to wal mart TONIGHT to get me some muse, baby
Aviv, don't take it the wrong way though. People can love your writing, but not really know what to say about something well written, emotional, or ironic; particularly if they haven't experienced it themselves. But hey, start talking smack about your insurance company, tell them about your debacle trying to return a gift for refund, complain about the cable guy taking forever to turn a screw twice and you'll ALWAYS get a response. That's because not only are people sure to relate, but they have thier own story. Usually, if I read something I like, but really don't feel it needs to be commented on, I'll just leave props. This is because I don't feel I have anything to add, I'm speechless, or just plain braindead.
Yeah, I've been out at night and had that experience. It's eerie, magical and wonderful. I think it's even better in humid areas like Florida and the other Gulf states. I wonder why that is?
I'm not sure. Perhaps it's the effect of the higher humidity; the air FEELS different, like a part of your wardrobe. And sounds carry further, but because of that, seem more lonely.
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