Nate said something today at breakfast that was right along the lines of my thought as it (not this) happened. He said, "It's funny - well, I guess not funny but... well, you know what I mean. Its strange. Yeah, strange that you should come here to write and have something spill on your laptop half-way through. Isn't it?"
That's coincidence, I suppose. Not it, but that just then. Him saying that. To have the same thought as I at the same moment when I'd all but forgotten. Or maybe it's just like minds. Or hell, maybe it's not coincidence at all, because now the more I think about it the more meaning there is in it. I wouldn't be writing about it now if that weren't the case, and in coincidence there is no meaning, just silly afterthought.
Like seeing Woody Allen throw around the name Stravinsky quite randomly in the randomness that is Side Effects (the book I stole from Jordan), not a week after I'd spent two hours trying to name and place and process that ridiculous fountain by the Centre Pompidou.
Silly coincidence.
[I still have no idea who Stravinsky is other than he wrote some concert piece about springtime.]
