Sunday, August 14, 2005

Walking thoughts

Walking home from the record store today, on the sidewalk along Dundas Street West, I felt a bit run down, a little bit sweaty. There was something agitating me- a kinesthetic message firing up my legs. I couldn't figure out what it was. It seems that, as I get older, it gets harder for me to be around other people, when it should be easier. Maybe it's Toronto and its stupid hipster fashion show- too many twenty-something girls whose proudest accomplishment is being part of a target market look you over like you're a bag of garbage when you're walking down the sidewalk. But, shouldn't I be learning to deal? How old do you get before you stop thinking like Holden Caufield? Of course, his "voice" really belonged to a middle-aged man. But, look how he's doing lately. Does time infect all wounds?

I walked onto the grass and suddenly I felt better. It took less than a second. The feeling of soft ground instead of concrete beneath my feet soothed the muscles like a kiss from my wife. How many generations have we walked the earth and felt the soil beneath our feet? How many generations have we lived on top of concrete, worked in cubicles, been unable to sleep without the drone of an air-conditioning unit? Maybe my resentment's always been for blocks and walls and not for other people.

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