There is a tiny-large shiver of feeling that sits slightly under the bottom left side of my lungs. It is both tiny and large, as shivers happen to be. Half a second’s possession, another for the exorcism. It is, at once, here — and then it is not; and so that mostly, it’s a figment of feeling. A premonition; later, a story around a campfire. I don’t think too much about it because it is horrifically nice and fleeting.
I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately. I should say that despite the darker connotations, the shiver-feeling is a good kind of haunting; a glow-y, ethereal kind of ok-ness. Like soft blue waters and pristine sand. A million minuscule crystals between all of my toes and it all feels alright; like the corners of every Instagram paradise expanding far, far beyond the peripherals. Warm naps, cool breeze. Palm shadows of a shiver. The afternoon drains slowly; we’re going to live happy ever after, forever at 2:30PM.
The soundtrack to the feeling is Lorde’s “Solar Power” which is a song that sits at the other side of the emotional pendulum that is the entirety of her 2017 album Melodrama. There are no big drops in “Solar Power”. It is impressively high; the hooks are there but just. It’s a song that floats unapologetically, with a hyper-contentment — a confidence — that takes up over three minutes of space. Comfy, cumulous clouds; the unreal kind that drift, drift, drift, here and away here and away. Beautiful; vapid; ceaseless. Cumulous clouds aren’t here for the rain, and why should they be? In that moment they are eternal.
It’s my fault that I’m here carrying the shiver around under my ribcage, mostly dead or at least dormant. It is literally my antidote to a doomful kind of safekeeping of my vital organs (psychologically, emotionally). But the other day I was sitting out on my back porch reading, my feet up on a plastic chair. I listened to neighbourhood noises and other home comforts and watched the shiver feeling stretch out its back over the decking like a diaphanous cat. The afternoon felt like forever. I use the word languid too much but that’s what it was. Languid; everlasting; ok.
The feeling draped itself over the railing and I just let it hang out and be totally beguiling and cool. It stretched its long arms around me; it was so warm and lyrical and safe. I read my book, enchanted, drawn out. I listened to the sounds of barbecues, laughter, soft movements. The clinking of plates and glasses. Time unravelling. The shiver sprawled. Over and over again I heard it whisper: “Come on let the bliss begin; blink three times when you feel it kicking in, that”
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