Radiohead - Street Spirit(Acoustic)
"I don't know about ghosts," she was saying, "but I do know that our souls can be made to go outside our bodies when we are alive."
The dairyman turned to her with his mouth full, his eyes charged with serious inquiry, and his great knife and fork(breakfasts were breakfasts here) planted erect on the table, like the begining of a gallows.
"What-really now? And is it so, maidy?" he said.
"A very easy way to feel 'em go," continued Tess, "is to lie on the grass at night and look straight up at some big bright star; and by fixing your mind upon it, you will soon find that you are hundreds and hundreds o' miles away from your body, at which you don't seem to want at all."From Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
...A Short Story
Walking beneath the sun, dressed in black shirts and blue jeans with sandals. It was late March and the climate was about as predictable as the young mans emotions. Three days and no sleep with excessive exercise and close to no food for about as many days as he has been sleep deprived does not exactly make for a stable mind. It was a beautiful afternoon and he was well overdressed for the occasion. Two tee-shirts, and a thin sweater-like breezer, all black. Topping his long black hair was a black snow cap he fancied, and faded blue jeans lead to black thick sandals revealing painted black toe nails. It was 70 degrees Fahrenheit, but it might as well of been 40.
The child looked more like a heroine addict with his off beats steps and fairly skinny frame. Everything was in slow motion. Cars, birds, sounds, and time. At moments during his walk he felt like dying, for the simple reason it seemed much easier then going any further in his current state. He was returning to his relatives place of work after have just witnessed a movie. It was the first screening of the film that day, around 1pm. He had to get to the first show, and it could not be a weekends day (today being Wednesday). He had a problem with people, and the public, it was a simple matter really: social anxiety mixed with a general hatred for people whom he had not met.
Todays movie (which at this point the title eludes his memory) had reaffirmed that notion. There were but 3 other people in the entire theater besides himself, and he found himself highly annoyed by them. His concentration (which he was short on to start with) was drifting back from the large images in front of his eyes to the laughing of the moronic fuck-heads (as he titled them under his breathe). They sat no more then 4 rows of seats behind him, and more then twice during film he had felt sudden impulses to kill each one of them.
He was sweating heavily now, yet not realizing it. Not even smelling it. It would hit him later, but now he was transfixed by the brightness of world. He felt like a walking contradiction. Bright shinny world surrounding a dark overly dramatic heroine addict with the mental stability of a used toothpick.
He felt used. The movies, even early afternoon shows, were not cheap. And he had wasted his money thinking of the ways he could possibly kill three middle aged moronic fuck-heads with a flip-style cell phone, a movie stub, some coins, and about $30.00 in fives and ones. He was pretty sure the movie was good, but right now he couldnt even recall the title. He would have to see it again some time.
But now boy, lets just get this corpse home. as he spoke to himself, he also reassured himself of his own walking death-like state.
