that stranger that you would drop everything for
Introduced to this idea when reading Douglas Coupland's Generation X on the rocks at Kingston beach. There is so much I still love about this book and relate to, 8 or 9 years after reading it for the first time.
Andy and Claire, on one chapter, are thinking about obsessions with strangers, the person that you only barely know, and possibly recognise isn't even a particularly nice person, but if you got home one day and they'd left a message on your answering machine saying "It's me, I love you, drop everything and come to Florida with me", you would. Andy's was the checkout girl at his local; Claire's was Tobias, a money trading suit in New York that was So Good Looking, Dag's was Elvissa.
In real life, P's was the landscaper that fixed her parent's garden when she was 14 and she only ever managed to photograph his back; I told her mine but then queried it's acceptability. P's was perfect, someone she knew for a week, and no longer recognises the face of. Mine was someone I once thought about, yes, and still struggle to recognise in public settings such as the Ex, but he is no longer a stranger. And unfortunately our last encounter, when I had the euphoria of having actively changed my life and extracting myself from a no-longer fulfilling work situation, and he was bitchin about hating his job and carried around bags of retail gluttony bought to compensate for his situation; well that's when I realised that I had surpassed him. He admired me now.
Andy and Claire, on one chapter, are thinking about obsessions with strangers, the person that you only barely know, and possibly recognise isn't even a particularly nice person, but if you got home one day and they'd left a message on your answering machine saying "It's me, I love you, drop everything and come to Florida with me", you would. Andy's was the checkout girl at his local; Claire's was Tobias, a money trading suit in New York that was So Good Looking, Dag's was Elvissa.
In real life, P's was the landscaper that fixed her parent's garden when she was 14 and she only ever managed to photograph his back; I told her mine but then queried it's acceptability. P's was perfect, someone she knew for a week, and no longer recognises the face of. Mine was someone I once thought about, yes, and still struggle to recognise in public settings such as the Ex, but he is no longer a stranger. And unfortunately our last encounter, when I had the euphoria of having actively changed my life and extracting myself from a no-longer fulfilling work situation, and he was bitchin about hating his job and carried around bags of retail gluttony bought to compensate for his situation; well that's when I realised that I had surpassed him. He admired me now.
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