The Definition of Magic

A week or so ago, I decided to get my depressed, mildly-psychotic ass off the couch and go for a walk down the river. I stopped by the cafe on the water-front to satisfy my caffeine cravings... or maybe just so I could sit down because, lets face it, after 5 months of depression and continual sleeping I was as lazy as f*k. Anyway, a seagull stopped by my table and looked at me with a mad glint in its eye that I recognized. Struck by a sudden and impulsive inspiration, I began to write on the back of my receipt paper (the only writing material handy). Here is a transcription of these scribblings:




The Definition of Magic

Things seem strange and shifting for me. Like I am always on the edge between this world and some other. But I can never quite break through to the other side, so I am left only with vague impressions. I am left dreaming.
     I see a man at a table and imagine that he is a lone-romantic, like me. Then a friend joins him. Although this doesn't necessarily make him any less alone, it shatters my imaginings. A seagull stops by my table and fixes me with a beady stare. I half-expect it to open its beak and speak to me in a human voice. Strange fancy! I glance across the cafe; the two men are smiling as they speak. They remind me of lost friends.

     I asked you once: “What is magic?”
You said that magic was either everything, or else it didn't exist. You said it depended on how you wanted to look at things.
     Choice is everything, then. But there are too many of them to be able to look one absolutely in the eye; subconsciously, you can not help seeing the whole row of them, side by side, in the corner of your vision.

I rise from the table abruptly. The seagull edges around my feet, nosing the ground. I have disappointed him.
The two young men do not notice me, but a middle-aged man looks up from his wife and gives me an eyefull. Sickened, and feeling suddenly unlean, I leave.
     Magic is the conversation we never had, over steaming mugs and misted breath. It is gloved hands that articulate stories, and stomachs that shimmer with laughter. It is the absence of everything but the moment. That is the definition of Magic.
     I breath into the cold air, rub my mittens together and begin walking.