Friday, February 12

not all samenesses are boring

for memories to work, there has to be some sameness. were nothing ever at all related or connected or similar to anything else, I'm not sure how anything would work.

so as much as I love and crave novelty, and wander off after it for its own sake when I get a chance, the novel will never mean anything much unless it has mundanity underneath it.

mundanity itself isn't all one flat texture, either. there are neat little bumps in it to catch you when you think you aren't paying attention.

I'm thinking of moments where I notice a girl across from me on the bus putting on lip balm. I do that.

when "happy Wednesday" comes out of someone else's mouth and I smile inordinately much to hear it.

or recognizing songs on the radio, recognizing them so deep they transport you across decades.

or when the sides of buildings you've driven past at least thirteen dozen times suddenly stand out in different light or different shadow, even though they are the same stone silhouette as ever.

it could be the juxtaposition that saves these samenesses from being dull. a mix of this and that, here and there, now and then-ness. you and me-ness.

yesterday I read this article, one I came across via the tumblr of Emily Horne, one half of the duo who used to write this webcomic. she was quoting from an article about beached whales by one Rebecca Griggs.

now I am quoting from a completely different section of that article, which I read in small sections inbetween my other reading/writing/thinking work. this sentence was near the end of Griggs' beautiful/sad piece, and it wanted to be in this week's blogpost.
"I put one hand briefly on the skin of the whale and felt its distant heartbeat, an electrical throbbing like a refrigerator. Life on that scale – mammalian life on that scale – so unfamiliar and familiar simultaneously. Oh, the alien whale. The world-bound whale. A net of shadows spread out across the ribby sand."

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