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The droning of human conversation usually assembles itself into some sort of point: how somebody was 'so wasted', perhaps, or something about shopping. Those are the usual configurations of speech here in Toronto. Occasionally a voice tears its way out of the low buzz with noteworthy incoherence... another language! Chinese? Arabic? Swedenspeak? That's one conversation you couldn't understand even if you cared to try, which makes it more intriguing by default. They're probably talking about shopping, but maybe (just maybe) they're talking about immortality. And how to, y'know, get there.

With a soft throbbing headache there is no drone. There is no buzz. Every conversation is a sharp shot, information about shopping being forced into a cranium which honestly has no desire to learn anything more about shopping. There's a sale here, there's a sale there, there's a sale everywhere. I am learning.

With a soft throbbing headache, it is possible to learn much more about the world than ever before. Instead of idly tuning everything out, you are tuning everything in. You may not want to, but the irreparable knowledge of where "that skank" got her "skank clothes" is lodged inside your squishy brain. H & M. She bought them at H & M, like everyone else. See? You still remember. There's a sale there right now, by the way.

For someone with a terribly poor memory, this soft throbbing headache is a remarkable boon. Toronto is eating you alive with its facile concerns, but now you know a secret: you can lightly bash your skull with a ballpeen hammer and while your ears ring the world is your Wikipedia.

Posted by Chris at 05:45 PM >> Commentations (1)