Earlier today I was sitting on the roof of my flat in my pants reading the latest Haruki Murakami. Kafka on the Shore is a typically strange tale superficially about a dull child who runs away to from home to join a library. I could not get very far into it before not so far distant thunderstorms made me retreat inside. It wasn’t yet raining in our part of town but an all metal roof at the top of a hill is probably not the best place to be when lightning is striking just a mile or two away. I only left reluctantly though, the storm was dramatic to watch and since I was on the lower of the two parts of our roof and there were other tallish things about I thought I’d be unlikely to get hit. I even considered how best i ought to sit so survive a strike but in the end I couldn’t figure out what would happen to me if i was sitting on a sheet of lead suddenly struck by lightning. And more than anything else my curiosity about watching the storm from an outdoor vantage point was outwayed by the worry about looking foolish if i was struck by lightning under such circumstances.
After the storm, with the sky completely blue, i climbed back out and basked in the sun with the book. Then i discover that another main character in the book has researched and written a little book about people who had survived being struck by lightning.. I don’t yet know where that bit of plot leads but it was a pleasing bit of synchronicity.
Of course, it is easy enough to generate coincidences.. especially where someone slightly surreal like Murakami is concerned. And so it is worth pointing out that by an amazing lack of coincidence, today, I have not decapitated any cats nor witnessed any leeches raining down from the sky. I didn’t even listen to Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band or eat any Udon noodles.