A Figure Walks Behind Me

It's not the angel or devil on your shoulder you need to worry about, it's that figure walking just behind you. As soon as you turn your head, they're gone from your field of vision. Truth is, you never see them. But they're always there.

Today they want to know why I stopped watching films. But it wasn't a conscious decision, it just kind of happened.  So it's hard to explain. And my attention is elsewhere. I'm walking a different route to normal. I'm on the edge of the city. Indulging in a bit of psychogeography.  There's a cul-de-sac, a close, that looks like a shrunken version of that one in Brookside. Every house too close to the neighbouring house. I wouldn't want to live there.

A bit further on there's a kid's play park. A small oasis of green in what is quite a built up and run down area. Rich and poor areas are very cheek by jowl in this city. Here's a rubble strewn area waiting hopefully to be redeveloped.  Just past the health centre where all the windows have metal shutters on them. But walk a couple of blocks and people have smart houses with views across the estuary. Maybe they own a boat or two.

So, about the film thing 

I don't enter into conversation with the figure that walks behind me. But sometimes you do have to listen. The voices in my head. Rattling around. Lonely.

I like the banal streets. The unremarkable houses. So many lives being lived that you will never know. We're just colonies of ants when you look at it on a cosmic scale. Less than that. Grains of dust. The dust inside the grain of dust. Sometimes it's good to know your place. To know that none of this matters. Whether you devote your spare time to reading books, courting swans or ... watching films.

 If the rain holds off, I could walk for hours. Through the city. Always the same. Always different. And behind me, the almost footsteps. The figure. The figure walking behind me.

 


 

 

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Introducing the band

Image
Hi. I'm 60 years old. I live in Cornwall. I am a recluse. I read books. I make music. I hang out with the local swans and other creatures found in the estuaries near to where I live. Sometimes I work. I like to sleep, but do it most irregularly. Here begins my daily journal. I intend to add a music recommendation every day. Beyond that, who knows? Don't expect to find anything revolutionary or revelatory.    Today's music pick is by Tessa Violet: 
Read more

Music Is The Only Time Machine You'll Ever Need

Image
Pulse were a band. A duo. Think Pet Shop Boys . Think Soft Cell . Think of all those 80s acts where a charismatic singer captivated an audience while a musician behind them coaxed music from an array of strange electronic devices. Both members of the band were called Steve, so in lieu of a description it's easier to say that one of them was referred to as Thin Steve and the other... Well, you get the idea. Thin Steve created the music. By day he was a teacher at the local tec college. He was young. I was young back then too -- well on the cusp of turning 30, but these things are all relative. He was a generation below me. We talked about equipment. Probably not often, but at least once or twice. We met at Paul's. Paul had a rehearsal room full of junk. And above the rehearsal room he had a studio full of even more junk. And a dog. A rescued, retired greyhound, the name of which I forget. The name of which doesn't really matter. These rooms were on a tiny industrial estate (...
Read more

I’m Your Fan

Image
"If you like our music, drop us a comment down below. Or give this video a thumbs up. Want to buy our latest release? Just head over to Bandcamp and download it. You can pay at the click of a button via Paypal." So that’s how things work in the internet age. Nice and simple. Frictionless transactions or some such marketing jargon. There’s still a process taking place somewhere, but it’s discreet. Behind the scenes. It probably involves a data centre out in Iceland and is a tiny tiny part of the reason the planet will shortly kill us all via climate change … but as we always say at times like this, that’s a different discussion for a different blog that you haven’t heard of and probably won’t ever read. My first interaction with a fan came about – ever circuitously – like this. It was the late 80s, I had somehow wound up running a small independent record label. The main intent had been to release my own music via tape - and later also on vinyl. But a label of one act – an...
Read more