This article is about the small things in everyday life that we neglect and don't think about. So much of what we experience in daily life is lost - hidden under a veil of subconscious non-perception. Many and dense and varied are the scenes that barely register as we go about our daily lives. Scratch the surface and ye shall find a teeming forest of sensations just waiting to get out! For example, at this moment, I am sipping a glass of sparkling water with a lemon in it. It's something I have done often but without giving it much thought. Probably because I was thinking of something else at the time. Let's think the experience through. What does drinking sparking water feel like? How would you describe it to someone who has never done it? Well, there is the initial play of gas bubbles reacting with the tongue. The slightly caustic acidic taste of carbon dioxide, the pleasurable release of the ensuing burp; the zesty lemon hidden under the gaseous miasma, and visually, the way the bubbles of gas always line up along the surface of the plastic straw. And the straw never stays put in your glass. It always topples over. Why can't they design a straw denser than the liquid so that it stays put?
As I write this my awareness is on transcendental mode. I can sense the toothyness of the extra-fine nib of my pen as it snags on the microscopic hairs and fibrils in the non-smooth paper. I prefer to write my thoughts down on coarse paper because the roughness adds inertia to the writing experience. And inertia is good because it has to be overcome and this mechanical tension forces one to write more daringly. And it must be an extra-fine nib. A medium nib let's down too wet a line and renders words and thoughts less precise and difficult to wrap around my thoughts.
What other sensations are there that slip beneath the radar of everyday consciousness? The pleasure of the first sip of the day's first cappuccino. That moment when your upper lip pierces the thick film of frothy milk, to get to the rich black coffee underneath. And then the mind awakens and pen and paper embrace in a romantic medley. You never know where pen and paper will lead you - down a dark alley, or up a mountain. There is the confidence and feel of a perfectly fitting blazer. A blazer snug under the armpits and wrapped perfectly around shoulders. You can walk down Stokey High St. with a big greasy grin on your face. You're the master of the universe with Darwin and Schopenhauer running through your veins and a pair of brown brogue shoes running under your feet. There's a spring in your step because you know the absurdity inherent in the myth of Sisyphus.
What other everyday sensations are there that we rarely think about? The slimy texture of the skin of Sole fillet pan fried in a knob of butter - its edges curled crispy brown. The crunchiness of it in the mouth is as much a part of the eating experience as the taste. The emotion of holding a tiny newborn baby on your chest - both chests heaving in unison - its tiny heartbeat chirping against the booming drum bass of your own heart. The sensation of tearing open a bag of 'Salt and Vinegar' crisps - out comes the smell of fish and chips doused in salt and vinegar. Is this what salt & vinegar crisps seek to recreate and exploit? - the smell of childhood school lunches at the chip shop?
What about the feeling of potential when you have filled your fountain pen with ink? - 'What shall I write with this reservoir of ink I have at my disposal?' The feeling of satisfaction upon opening a parcel from Amazon. The frenzied tearing of the bubble wrap with sharp nails. The holding in your hand of a hefty book. Brand new. Pages white as a virgin and smelling fresh and chemical. You justify book purchases by convincing yourself that you're building a library. The sudden realisation on a Sunday evening after a weekends perambulating and thinking; that you make your living and earn a respectable salary via the skillful manipulation of data on a spreadsheet! You wonder how you; a Schopenhauer gorging, misanthropic, empirically inclined child of the secular revolution became a poster child for the capitalist manifesto. Karl Marx eat your heart out. Karl Marx spin in your grave.
Ah, the dizzy anticipation of an evening's Schopenhauer! The satisfactory feeling of going to bed tired and knowing that you would not change a single thing about the way you lived today. The manner in which the pretty french-speaking English girl in your local coffee shop keeps looking at your Schopenhauer no doubt wondering when you will finish it! And - more importantly, when you will tell her all about it...
'What does he write in the marginalia?' she wonders playing with the frills in her hair
'The mysteries, baby. The mysteries' he says in response to her thoughts.
The way a girl looks at you across the table; her eyes filmy from sheer pleasure in being in your wonderful presence; her lips curled at the corners in a lop-sided smile loaded with contentment. And you? You're feeling like a god because you can't believe you've made another human being feel like this. That is amazing. That is a miracle of life. The way we sow seeds of emotion in other peoples brains.
And finally the mystery of why; whenever you put your headphones in your pocket and take them out later, the wires always end up tangled in a bloody mess!
It's all weird. It's all wonderful. It's all a million shards of daily life.
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