This is like an online notebook, this stuff is not finished or often even started properly.

Flab Of The City Part Two

Flab of the City.

I was trying to decide whether to buy the Swedish bread with holes in it (they reminded me of a rash) when I heard the sound.  It sounded like a bone cracking but I felt no pain and none of my bones appeared to be broken, however I was sure the sound had come from somewhere within my own body.  I couldn’t be sure where exactly - in fact the more I thought about it that was strange in itself, normally my body has a very good sense of it’s own geography, but this cracking sound seemed to come from some undiscovered organ or space, unmistakably internal but not yet mapped.  I bought the bread and paid for my shopping on my visa card and left.

Outside I suddenly felt very faint.  My mind was filled with the most intense confusion, a storm of dislodged thoughts.  I had to sit down on a bench between two red faced tramps.  They passed a can of super strength lager between them and I stared into my bag of shopping and it seemed to me like a infinite pit, bored straight through the middle of the earth itself and out the other side, I felt like I was watching the cosmos and everything in it drip through the bag and pass out the other side into nothingness, an absence, an abscess. 

After a moment of staring into the shopping bag I suddenly realised that I was real.  That I was an adult and that I was terrified of myself and the future and of the creeping terror of the the day to day.   I interrupted the flow of the can between the two tramps and snatched the can draining it’s contents and crumpling it one movement.  Just then a child slipped in a puddle, the fear of death flashed across the mothers face, but the child was fine.  I took some coins out of my pocket and pressed them into the palm of one of the tramps.  


Then I got up on with my life and but the episodes continued regularly, like internal earthquakes, moments of severe reality unfiltered, raw, yet I never deduced a proper reaction to them and in many ways these episodes, these attacks, dictated the flow of my life.  I died never understanding the inside of my own head and never having found that mysterious organ, from which that devil crack originated, I died surrounded by my grandchildren, to all extents and purposes, a happy man.     

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