Long Distance Webs

Fuck me, but its been a long time since I blogged.

Well, here anyway. I've kept a most informal collection of thoughts and such on a different blog. Not worth mentioning in any case. Saw a friend's blog, reminded me of this long-forgotten place and I thought I oughta come back, dust off the old Buick and take it out for a spin.

Should I try and fill in the gap between the last post and now? Between the past and the present? I don't think so. Inconstancy is the nature of man, after all. Ah, sweet pretentiousness, how I missed you. :p

I'm currently residing in the beautiful, timeless city of Norwich, in Norfolk, England. It is quite lovely and although everything was frozen over yesterday, quite warm and sunny today. I've met some of my new flatmates and they all seem particularly cool. Which is great. They also seem particularly obsessed with alcohol, and I take it that this will be a learning experience in more ways than one, ha. At least for my liver, in any case.

It feels wierd, being so far from home, so far from everything I know - from the memories; captured instances in the river of time, locked and lodged in place, now removed from me, benign and malignant tumours both - not because I'm homesick, not because I'm lonely, rather its the opposite.

I feel nothing.

It's perplexing. I'm not worried, beyond the necessities of money and food and I have no particular desire to speak to anyone from home. It makes talking to family really wierd. How do I respond to 'I miss you so much' - not with a lie, certainly, that's not my style. I'm not sure if I'm empty, or oblivious, or self-centered, or what, but I feel completely normal.

Different.

We're all spiders, you know. Each moment, of every day, we lay a web; a strand of thought and feeling and remembrance - at the bus stop you pass every day, the broken gate you have to step over, the fruit vendor you say hello to every Friday and its a web of identity, that we construct without thought. Our prey? Well, as to that, it depends on the spider in question. For some the prey are friends and family, the aim, to keep them in and for others, the hunting kind, why the web is of lesser improtance to these and they stalk the streets; tearing into other spiders, mating and consuming selves with consummate ease.

There are thousands of different spiders, different traps, different deaths and lives to live.

I just don't know which I am yet.

I have a web, of that I'm sure. Just like the one I mentioned above and it was a web of familiarity and routine; I think, also, it was one of camouflage. I recognise I'm different and so, sometimes, I think I build a web just to seem like the other spiders. Because if they knew my true colours, they might all just run away.