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Imagined Sanctuaries
Lately I've been in need of time and space to myself, running constant mental searches on places to be alone. (There are none.) I find myself wishing for a Narnian wardrobe, or some other secret passageway to a pocket universe. Just as children do. Did I desperately need to be alone as a child? It's unlikely. I'm among the last of the (mostly) unsupervised children. Then the draw was the idea of finding novelty, of finding a bit of something shining and dream-like, amid the ordinary. Part of me really believed that if I followed the brown and dingy creek behind my house to the place where it ends, that place would be a glowing Elysian field. I feel a tiny portion of that feeling when I look for new music, which is like the things I know, but also different. Novelty as transfiguration of the ordinary.
Hell, I am a continental philosopher. Must read about quantifiers immediately!
Side note: much psychedelia captures this juxtaposition perfectly (as suggested by song titles like "Thursday Morning," "Tuesday Afternoon," "Rainy Day Mushroom Pillow"). It's simultaneously reassuring--as if to say, "Look! The world goes on!"--and dreamily transfiguring.
Hell, I am a continental philosopher. Must read about quantifiers immediately!
Side note: much psychedelia captures this juxtaposition perfectly (as suggested by song titles like "Thursday Morning," "Tuesday Afternoon," "Rainy Day Mushroom Pillow"). It's simultaneously reassuring--as if to say, "Look! The world goes on!"--and dreamily transfiguring.