The Stranger

It's hard to believe it's been five years. Hard to believe it's been that long, and hard to believe that's all it's been. So much of it is still as fresh in my memory as if it were a month or two ago, yet it all seems like a couple of lifetimes ago, which surely must be much longer than five years. Time is a funny thing.

In any case, there I was, and here I am, and no realm of possibility allows me to imagine one without the other; that moment inevitably brought me to this one. As someone I used to be liked to say, "Everywhere I have been has brought me to where I am." It was one of those sorts of profound thoughts that we liked to impress ourselves with as we discovered the secrets of the power of the mysteries of the Universe. Or maybe that was just me.

Is it just me, or does Gotye look a bit like Mr Gold/Rumpelstiltskin? Must be the hair.

Back on topic, now it's just some place that I used to go, like a neighbourhood bar long since reduced to rubble and paved over for the parking lot of a new mall. And just as I finished writing that sentence, the random YouTube mix playing in another tab sang by the time the bar closes and you feel like falling down. If you were there, you know. If you weren't, no explanation would make sense. Every Saturday night I seem to come alive for you baby. Google still freaks me out sometimes.

* * * * *

Anyways, at some point last week I thought I ought to write something to mark the occasion. Add a bout of insomnia, a YouTube mix and a box of, well, you know, and that above is what happened. Now that the day is here (and the box isn't), I realize, finally, that there is nothing left to write.