Friday, 14 February 2014

Running in the Groove.

I sometimes feel that the real me isn’t JJ Beazley living a life at all. That JJ Beazley is something like a vinyl record with a groove that runs unbroken from the outside edge to the centre. The record is all there, all at the same time, and the groove is the illusion of time passing. The real me is an individualised fragment of consciousness which rests in the groove as a stylus does, being moved from birth on the outside to death on the inside, picking up each experience as it sweeps past and having the capacity to remember them only as long as it’s playing the same record.

Today I tried to venture beyond that simple, and inevitably simplistic, simile. It became too complex, so I dropped it for now.

Meanwhile, back down here in the groove, I missed HT54 by seconds again today, twice – once on the way out for a walk, and again on the way back. That’s never happened before, but I doubt it’s significant.

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