My impulsive nature means that I often find myself in a reality that I can’t logically explain. A place in which time seems to stop for a moment, just long enough for me to take a look around and ask myself, “How the fuck did I get here?”
I’m not a planner. Never have been. I just tend to ride along on a conveyor belt of chain reactions, only occasionally paying attention to the details around me. I live in the clouds. It drives Maria my girlfriend fucking insane, and not in a good way. But what can you do?
One recent example of this came on the 31st of July this year, around midday, when I suddenly realised I was sat in the passenger seat of the world’s tiniest pick-up truck, parked up and blocking traffic, right slap bang in the centre of a jungle village, while a group of men swarmed round and stuck their faces in the window, looking curiously at the two white faces while trying to make sense of the tiny scrap of paper I was carrying, on which I’d written what I was (wrongly) insisting was an address. I was in India, the state of Kerala, and neither my driver nor anyone else could speak English, and likewise I didn’t speak their language Malayalam. Slowly more people were starting to gather round the vehicle, for no other reason than curiosity. We had been in this situation for a good 15 minutes, without progress of any kind, when I realised I had absolutely zero plan and so stepped out of my body for a moment and asked myself the familiar question.
Fortunately for the sake of this story, Maria was sat in the back and was filming at the exact moment I left my body. From 0:05 to 0:11 seconds, I am officially gone.