the sea on your head

there are moments when shyness is a raft, cast adrift in the sea, never quite reaching shore.

ok. i get the “never quite reaching shore” part, but what makes shyness a raft? I don’t get it.

shyness is a weight. it weighs almost as much as the sea, except that it’s a sea that you wear on your head.

i guess that sort of makes more sense, but… 

shyness is a pasture with an invisible electric fence. there’s a lot of grass to graze upon, which is nice, but sometimes you just want to visit the neighboring pasture. at the same time, you realize it might be more comfortable to stay in the pasture where you are.

um…. 

shyness is  jail cell with invisible bars. the warden has fallen asleep, and he’s wearing headphones and a sleep mask. so you can easily escape, and you try. but you still have to figure out how to work your way through the bars before the warden awakens.

i think you more or less said the same thing with that electric fence metaphor, except for the pasture part. and who is the warden? is that like your sub-conscious? Is it me? Am I the warden?

ok… how about this one? shyness is a loaded gun that’s aimed at yourself, except that it only shoots feathers. and most of the time it misses its target.

um …  i have no idea what that means.

maybe it’s a squirt gun that only shoots steam.

 you’ve completely lost me. but i like that last one the best.

i guess i’ll keep working on this.

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.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s