Urban Myths
By bro
- 470 reads
I. Post -E- City
Kaliedoscopic memories fading now as I wander this urban painting. I
walk with a half-smile on my face, remembering some half-forgotten
dream. Some magic that was shared last night, under the neon
starlight.
We step onto the bus and walk the aisle, my coat giving me the feel and
protection of an old hardy dependable something. People looking up from
their seats at me and Dan, some faces like ghosts of their former
selves. Some faces like angels: bright, and shining with an inner
light; all faces telling me a story.
When we sit down, Dan shows me the book he's reading at the moment
called ' Finnegan's wake' by James Joyce. He's always carrying books
around with him, wherever he goes. Stuffs them in his pockets, in his
bag, anywhere he can, ever since I've known him, I've never seen him
without a book.
" Try and read that." He says. " Just turn to any page and try to read
it."
I take a look at it, and read the first page. I am instantly awed by it
and hooked, but I can't explain why. The words seem to speak to some
deep part of me, they seem familiar, though I haven't got a clue what
they mean. It's the first time I've ever looked at anything written by
James Joyce. It grips me, I suddenly see a whole new way of putting
words together. I get excited and feel the urge to go home and write,
inspired to experiment more with language.
" Isn't it great?" Dan says. "I have made it my mission to try and read
the whole book during the course of my lifetime, I want to have
finished it before I die."
I look at the back of the book and one of the reviews says: '
un-readable.'
Apparently last night Dan kept having surreal thoughts that he was in
that book, Finnegan's wake. He said also, that whenever he closed his
eyes he kept seeing fractions and mathematical equations. He said it
was strange, he was dancing to the music, whooping and clapping, whilst
at the same time working out these complex mathematical equations in
his head; though not really understanding how he was doing it, or why
he was doing it.
My images weren't quite so mind-blowing, though very wierd nonetheless.
Whenever I closed my eyes I kept seeing flags, the kind of flags you
get to mark the corners of a football pitch. I don't know why. Totally
unrelated to anything in my life, I don't even like football. A strange
image to see in my mind at a rave party. Just pills - they do strange
things to your brain.
I remember also at one point when I closed my eyes, I started to dream.
I dreamt that I walked through my computer screen and was floating
through wires and pixels, and I met these strange people who looked
very familiar to me. All of them smiling and staring kinda strange,
like people do in old black and white photographs. Then suddenly I was
sat back in my chair, no longer in the world behind the computer
screen, and I see the word E-MAIL flashing across it in big bold
letters, so I click on it, then open my eyes; and find I'am dancing at
a rave party amongst lots of other people who are also dancing. Such a
wierd feeling. It kinda shocks you a bit when that happens. I was
really off it last night.
Dan points to a guy in a long black coat, who's sat at the front of the
bus. " That man he's a Jehovahs Witness." he says.
" How do you know?"
" They always wear those coats."
" Aren't you in danger of stereotyping Jehovahs Witnesses Dan?"
The man looks out of the window, with a grey lined misty face that
looks deep in thought, I think it's the hybrid between a suitcase and a
bag that he's carrying which makes him look like a JW or a preacher
man.
" Jehovah's witnesses always seem to wear those sorts of coats." Dan
comments. " I could be wrong, I guess people who aren't Jehovah's
witnesses wear those coats also, but he's a JW I'am sure of it."
As if he has heard us the man looks up, and I look into his eyes and
there is a weird light in them, a twilight zone kind of light, I can't
put my finger on what it is. Then I'am see glimpses of his world, like
thumbnail images flashing behind the windows of his eyes; the religious
meetings he attends, the people he knows, his family, his dark secrets,
the skeletons in his closet. He looks away suddenly, and I don't know
what the hell that was about. I feel a bit disorientated. Dan's been
talking to me, but I haven't heard what he's been saying. I get the
theme tune from: "Tales Of The Unexpected" going through my head, and
it bugs me.
***
We get off the bus and make our slow dawdling way through the city
centre. I always get this feeling the next day after a rave that the
whole world has slowed right down. People look more chilled out than
they normally do, seem more friendly, more likeable. Like everyone's
been out clubbing and are coming down off pills today.
This makes me conclude that the world is how we percieve it as an
individual. I can imagine if I was feeling stressed and anxious about
something, the world would seem like a busy hostile place.
So maybe it's true: you are what you see, and the world is what our
thoughts make it. The outer just a reflection of the inner. A dream. An
illusion that we can manipulate.
Maybe none of it's real, maybe it's all fake. Perhaps the people I meet
are all characters being dreamed by me, to give me the illusion of time
and space.. oh man I'am doing my own head in.. got to stop this train
of thought..
Me and Dan stop at the crossroads, time to part our ways and go in
different directions. There is someone rapping on the street corner
wired up with a mic to a soundsytem that's playing some drum &;
bass, it sounds funky. Some people nearby are bopping up and down to
it; but not me and Dan, we just stand there and stare for a while,
we're too knackered to dance today. " Ah well mate," he says after a
while. " Better go to work now."
" Yeah man, I better go home and walk the mutley."
" Will come over and see you soon, gonna try and buy a carrier case for
me playstation2; then I can bring it over to yours."
" Oh that sounds great, will get some beers and some toots in for the
occasion."
We hug each other, then part, two urban navigators, making our way to
the next location. I'am alone now with my thoughts, feeling the Mr.Soft
feeling, like I'am made up of marshmellow or something. I guess I
haven't comedown fully yet, must still have the 'e' going through my
system, is what they call afterglow I think. The big towering shop
buildings remind me of where I am though, and bring me firmly into the
reality of the moment: like a concrete/steel anchor.
I see a street busker standing all painted in silver, like a statue. He
stays like this till someone puts some money in his hat; then suddenly
he comes to life, and starts performing these slow robotic movements. I
stand and watch him for a while, in a monged out sort of way, digging
his vibe. I rummage around my pocket for some money, then put a quid in
his hat and say: "Respect man." Then carry on walking to the bustop on
the Smallbrook Queensway.
***
Across the road from where I'am stood there is rubble and cranes. It's
been like that since they knocked down the Bullring. Half the city
centre seems to have been knocked down. As Birmingham changes her image
to a more modern one. There are building sites everywhere and
demolition crews. It's strange. It feels like the place has been bombed
or something. Like the aftermath of a WWII scene: the construction
crews busy repairing the damage.
I hope the newer buildings look better than the awful one they erected
to replace the rag market. It looks a bit like a metal arachnid but
without legs. Hey don't get me wrong a metal arachnid might actually
look cool, but not this one, it's the wrong colour for a start; being a
kind of musty violet, with big metal tubes and windows, that have no
particularly interesting shape to them. Looks a bit like something you
might build out of mechano, only not as inspiring. Nobody I've talked
to in Birmingham likes the new indoor market. It's a dull
structure.
I'am a bit worried about our modern architects man. They need sorting
out. Someone needs to slip some LSD into their coffee. I thought we
lived in more creative times than this. Christ what are future
generations gonna think of the architecture we leave behind for them,
probably knock it down pretty sharpish.
You see I really dig the older Victorian buildings, now they have
character about them, gothic artwork and a kind of ghostly beauty. A
kind of beauty and character you don't get with this modern
architecture. These new buildings are shallow, with no depth to them,
they don't look at all enticing - their ugly. You find it hard to warm
to them, they're like strangers you feel uneasy about. I can't explain
it too well. I don't know what it is, a strange kind of sentiment I am
feeling at this moment in my post-e mind. Probably won't give a damn
about it tommorrow.
II.Urban Myths
Underneath Birmingham citycentre there is rumoured to be a whole load
of secret tunnels. Dan and some others went down them once.
He said they went around asking people in town if they knew where the
secret tunnels under the city where? Nobody knew, well I guess they
wouldn't know; cause they wouldn't be secret tunnels if everyone knew
where they where.
They eventually found an entrance to them in an underpass. All of them
walking on the edge of this thin curb in single file as the cars zoomed
passed them. Though none of them now can remember where this underpass
was. They found a door that led to the tunnels.
They say the tunnels were pitch black and very spooky, with walls
covered in amazingly detailed graffiti; but they didn't get to see much
of it as none of them had brought a torch with them, so they ended up
using a lighter to find their way around. They apparently heard some
strange noises down there, that shit them up. Made them hurry through
the tunnels at a fast pace. Eventually coming back up somewhere near
the Central libray. Which brings me to the next underground
story.
I've heard that underneath the Central library there is a whole bus
station, and that you can get to it via the secret tunnels under the
city. The story goes, that years ago the council abandoned this bus
station; deciding in the end, after they had built it, that it was a
bad location. This was due to it being dark and creepy, they felt
people wouldn't want to use it and would complain; so they scrapped it
and built the central library over the top instead.
I've heard it's dead eery in there. A whole ghost station, full of
platforms and stands that have never been used, all of it
underground.
I don't know if this is true. There are a lot of urban myths
around.
Like there's supposed to be a whole forest somewhere in Birmingham as
well. I've never found it, but I've heard it exists. It is supposedly
the very same forest that inspired J.R.R Tolkien to create the 'Old
Forest' in the 'Lord Of The Rings.'
It apparently goes on for miles, one minute you're walking through
urbania, the next you're in a forest, then after a long walk, you end
up back in urbania again. Is literally a forest contained within a
city. I've heard it's a sinister forest as well, dark, and the trees
are twisted looking malevalent things, not a place you would want to
get lost in.
Urban myths. I know quite a few of these, even created one myself. Is
my only claim to fame. Though noone knows I made it up, so it's
invisible fame.
The myth is about a hooded man, who walks the city sometimes at night.
He has a scar on his right cheek, and a strange look in his eyes.
During the day he's nothing more than an old statue. Abandoned, stood
forgotten, in the overgrown garden, of an empty boarded beat up house.
But sometimes at night, he comes to life and walks the city, searching
for his lost lover. She is another statue, they used to be together;
but they were seperated a long time ago and moved to different parts of
the city. So he searches for her. Though never finds her. Is a sad
story really.
About a month ago, I heard someone talking about my statue in the pub,
and I smiled snidely to myself, knowing the truth about it.
I bet though, someone else in the city is smiling secretly at me, when
I talk about the old abandoned bus station; cause even though I suspect
it's a myth, I still want to find it.
***
Man this bus seems to be taking forever. I don't wear a watch anymore,
so maybe I got here too early. I don't know, and I don't really care,
feel too spaced out to give a monkies, is nice just to be - Zen
styley.
I sit down on the steps and wonder about making up some more urban
myths, smiling to myself, as I watch the cars and people go by.
Wondering if maybe there is a whole subterraenean city underneath my
feet. Full of strange mythical creatures and people: beings who live in
the dark places of our world; silent keepers of forgotten knowledge and
secrets. The lost people..
~ funky_seagull2002 ~
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