I’m sending this from the past to the future. Hello, future. The world of 10am seems new and hard and cold compared to the primitive warmth of 7am, but I thought better to send this missive to a time when people might actually be alive enough to think about reading it rather than the ungodly early hours of the morning – which are, as it happens, the most godly of all hours, being that I’m currently enjoying the sun’s lazy ascent in the company of mercifully few others by the sea.
Yeah, I can’t sleep: it happens every once in a while, and if I carry on this foolhardy mission then you’ll quickly become aware of how freakishly frequent ‘once in a while’ can be.
I was laying in bed, still wide awake at 6am when I decided nothing good was coming of being immobile. What does, apart from during T-Rex encounters? This could have been one of any number of reasons: it could have been the fact that I only got up at 2pm yesterday afternoon, a perfect example of my imperfect body clock; it could have been that the book I’d just been reading (still Child of God) had left me with a strange taste in my mouth and caused unwanted thoughts to stir my imagination; it could have been the self-flagellation I’d been giving myself for a good few hours for saying some things that were better off staying in my head, and will probably remain to for quite some time now thanks to my screwing the proverbial pooch; it could even have been (and this is the more likely) my romantic but useless musings about a girl I really shouldn’t have been thinking of, but was. I say girl – I really mean girls, because once you let one in it’s pretty hard to keep the rest out.
If the one I was thinking about is reading this and wondering if it’s really you, you guessed right – it is. Call or tweet me at your nearest convenience and we’ll get back together/go on a first date/give me your number/tell me your name/continue to let me stare at you on the bus (delete as applicable).
All this and many other things contributed to my stirring, so I looked out the window and knew I could catch the sun at its prettiest if I got a move on. I packed a book and a light breakfast, snuck out of the house real quiet-like on my bike and ended up at the end of a pier overlooked by a lighthouse.
I was struck by two things en route to where I’m writing this: one, the sheer beauty of the Sun. I mean, honestly, even when it’s not yet been up long enough to warm you and it’s so blindingly bright you can hardly stand to look at it for more than a second, it’s still the main reason that you and everything else is allowed to exist. Even the bad things. The Sun lets me have an argument with somebody over a movie I don’t even care about. It lets me have an existential crisis whenever I (don’t) feel like it. Hell, it even lets me blog on the odd occasion. Other people have iterated this far more eloquently than I am, so I’ll stop now. But you get what I’m saying: I don’t appreciate that big ball of gas as often as I really should.
Number two on the list of Things That Struck Mark On The Way To The Lighthouse was that strangers are still just as awkward with each other even at this early hour and this remote a meeting place. I mean, I am too, that’s my disposition; it just seems odd to me that other people don’t trust that your motives are as pure or innocent as theirs, even though you’ve likely come out here for the same reason…because you like it.
So now I’m stuck: I planned on reading but both the (stupidly) unexpected cold and the Pretence Alarms – I brought the book down mainly because I thought it was a nice image and partly because I thought I’d be bored – made me think again. Sooner or later the seafront’ll be open for business and I’ll have to move along before I get swept away by the fawning, sweaty tourists and disillusioned locals alike (I’ve not lived here for three years so I don’t feel like either). By the time you’ve read this I’ll have inevitably found a new haunt or trade – in fact I’ve just decided I’m going to become a bridge-dwelling troll and prey on the unsuspecting – but both the journey and the time spent at my destination have served their purpose.
The problems of early this morning seem trivial now, as do my actions toward them. They’ll be fixed with time, patience and a little less ignorance. The only immediate problem – and this could either be negligible or hilarious – is my current bowel situation resulting from that single cup of coffee I felt was absolutely necessary if I was ever going to make the coast in one piece.
Unfortunately I’m not really a coffee drinker and assumed three spoonfuls was about the average dose.
Hello, 10am. Sorry about what I did to the bathroom.