Strange New Music

What are we made of huh?

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I’ve been listening to a lot of strange new music lately. Strange, since I don’t get the words. New, since I don’t get the words, again. After leaving work, you sort of split open that shell, and become that person you always were. I do not sit at my desk for nine hours anymore. Nor do I try to make conversation to anyone. I no longer take the city bus. And I no longer listen to the same playlist that the bus driver played every single day. Hell, I don’t even listen to my own playlists nowadays.

Left for the Northside of the country the very next day after I quit my job. Danced to the distant tunes from a distant place. My friend sat on a wagon with two horses pulling it. He wore clothes which was alien. As it was happening, I couldn’t grasp the moment to its totality. It felt like the scene from the movie where the next time we all came onscreen, the story would’ve taken a time-jump. But wait, we are not there yet.

When you have very few friends, and when you hear one of them was getting married, you get on that train without asking much questions. Later from there you take another, since you’ve come all the way, why not stick around for a while. Sticking around has never been my forte but that is a story for another time. Now and then, someone dies in our neighbourhood, the frequency of late, has been worrying me. Someone old, someone new. I find myself as a poor human being at times. Every time someone dies, I am reminded of this inherent evil inside of me. Heavy sighs, for the dead person and heavier sighs, almost like a prayer, for keeping me alive one more day. Not giving the dead their moment even on their funeral pyre is a level of selfishness that deserves a mosquito-like death of sorts. A giant hand coming down on you from the skies, merging your being onto the ground where your feet rested.

I see a face melt like crayons. I want to say ice cream, but I don’t remember setting ice cream on fire. I used to bring the tip of the crayons on the candle flame; power outages where the drill growing up in these parts during the monsoons. Groups of people, observed the stranger’s body being consumed by the fire. It was like a day at the beach, and everyone were enjoying the sunset. Instead, this was a river, and people from different parts of the country came here to die. After two bodies, I see them bringing on the third. My friend subtly got up, and that was my cue. I wish I hadn’t seen that stranger’s face before they set him on fire.

Fifteen books read this year. Goodreads challenge I’ve failed you once again. So have I failed Letterboxd. My top four films are the same ones that I used to preach around during my time at university. I support the same football team since I was ten and I see them lose week-in week-out. My cousin who had an IT job picks me up after my shift at my office, this leads to us getting dinner and late-night drives. He asks me what interests me. Sadly, his way of socializing has a peculiar mode where he bombards me with questions. I told my carefully curated list that barely lasted a minute that made me existential for a solid six seconds. I asked him the same question in return- his list was equally disappointing and somehow that made me feel better though it shouldn’t have. He’s pushing forty, I’m twenty-seven. Welcome to the loser gang, I thought to myself.

I talk to this internet person whom I’ve never met about finding love. The choices on how potentially cool a person would be and how you make the right swipe. Radiohead, No. Pottery, Yes. Formula One, No. Lana Del Rey, Yes. Rom-Coms, No. Wait, which guy listens to Lana? Maybe I missed something there. We speak of how we’d both die alone, but somehow, we’ll be alright as long as we remain cool. Couldn’t really conclude why we both found each other cool. Both of us swiped right and that’s why we’re talking, so there you go. I don’t think I’ll be seeing her or her seeing me, but she said her friend could get me a referral for a new job. Hinge-1, LinkedIn-0.

A while ago; I’d finished reading Jung and life was all easy. I spoke to my friend how I feel there’s something inside of us that science can’t explain, nor can religion. She smiles with all her teeth out, as I continue making my case. It was the pre-AI days and I really don’t remember how we’ve reached there from Jung. I spoke of how there never can be another you. How science (or religion for that matter) could make parts of you and assemble it still won’t be you. They can replicate even your brain, your memories, your slender arms, your bangs and fringes, your dodgy canine, your small tattoos or your funny looking bucket hat. It still won’t be you, and only the people whom you love and the ones who love you would know the difference. I should have simply said how I loved her without going through all that Jungian build-up.

Listening to all the blends I made with people, got me thinking beyond music. It got me thinking where am I to go from this. The person I was from ten months ago has left me; I do not have a routine anymore. Nor am I reading Sontag after a long day. In fact, I’ve hit rock bottom and is on a rut. I do not know how to build on my memories anymore. Like a cold, I’ve encountered tastelessness. Starting to doubt whether would it be in fact be possible to make another me, if he has been fed the same taste in things. There isn’t in fact a need to break from the shell as I’ve had, because it was hollow all the while and the shell was my insurance. Insurance from death or something of similar nature. But I do hope when time comes and when my face melts, that I have a point, that my dear had dismissed with her laughter a while back. But instead of proving her wrong, something tells me I would have other plans this time around. Something tells me I’d go running back and tell her how much I missed her all these years.

“Listen, I’ve found strange new music, and I think it’s cool”

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I leave you with this.

2025, with love.