Tags
2011, 5*, coffee shop, comics, Eastbourne, growth, living, reading, searching, talking to myself
coffee shop
inculcation
I have been looking for my life
in comic shops and bookshops
for all my life
I have found skylines and streets
peoples’ lives and landscapes …
look to stop lifing
and start timing
not to go out-hunting
and search-gathering
for the angle that is different for
the-bits-that-others-have-missed
believing in the relief of find
and relaxing with the heroes
assembled on the bookshelf but rather
to just
include
them all
everything
these people all around
to smell their view
to see their journey
to hear their haves
to pulse their step
to catch an eye
to embrace wider
and wider to sit
even with the boredom
especially with the boredom
the pointlessness
the disappointment
the betrayal and then
there is no time to hunt
and no need to gather
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
coffee wormhole: he Had
comics wormhole: quoshed
Eastbourne wormhole: in the gem shop / on the pier
living & talking to myself wormhole: tonglen doing
reading wormhole: oh, this is how I am / at the moment
mlewisredford 
I dig those comic shops and a cup of coffee while I page through the loot.
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… especially when they were printed on newsprint paper and you could SMELL the four-colours and then step back – foot up on the parapet – and look at the mauve city below laundry on the lines …
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That smell is great, and of musty second-hand books. What is it with you an mauve. Synaesthetic nostalgia?
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oh yes; the art of book-sniffing I have tried to pass on to my children but they just think I’m a right ol’ factory.
And mauve? Actually it is synaesACTUAL ‘homecoming’ because the original experience was only a careless brush of a sense in the first place. In synaesthetising the experience you are actually reconstructing (no, you are ‘add-structing’) the experience rather than just re-living it – it is active, new experience, there is no wistfulness or distress. And this is why writing is so important. ‘Natch.
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As Kindle begins to take over, the book sniffers may become a secret cabal (a tautology?) whose fetish makes them social and, in Bradbury land, legal, outcasts.
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It’s true, it’s true. Sniff.
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