a transitional moment

it’s hard to tell what any of this means. talking into some wires molded into a plastic case to a virtual stranger in another continent. night after night we talk. it’s especially hard to figure out any meaning since I find talking on the phone rather stifling. yet we talk and talk and talk. we each take turns, sometimes each turn lasting over an hour. actually my turn is more like 15 minutes, but it feels like an hour.

tonight we were talking and i could almost sense these massive waves of emotion pouring out from you, and i thought, this should be a key transitional moment in our relationship, but there’s this blockage and i don’t know what it is. what is wrong with me? i should be feeling things more. why am i not feeling things more? why am i not feeling more things?

has my emotional landscape become such a frozen tundra? am i dried up inside?  i wanted to feel things at that transitional moment, but they were so difficult to conjure. even that word, conjure, reveals how unnatural it was to try to feel feelings i could not feel (nor conjure).

and then it occurred to me, maybe Marshall McLuhan encapsulated the predicament… that the medium is the message. it’s all about the medium.

so there really isn’t anything at all wrong with me. i just have a really shitty phone.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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