The past always comes up to haunt me. Even when I have detached myself, and put it, now, and tomorrow into neat compartments, I forget that others might not have done the same.
These strings and strings bind my actions together, and even almost strangers have the power to pluck away at them, causing reverberations that echo throughout the tangled web...all the way up to this point, up to now, threatening to send vibrations into the next moment.
**
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
deconstruction
Dan: When I get back, please tell me the truth.
Alice: Why?
Dan: Because I'm addicted to it. Because without it, we're animals
In a world that prizes clever wordplay over the truth, is nothing good for itself once it’s put up for display? What I write…does it reflect what I am at all? If it’s all a bunch of lies, is there something in the lies that really, truly capture reality? Or is it just false through and through?
**
Alice: Why?
Dan: Because I'm addicted to it. Because without it, we're animals
In a world that prizes clever wordplay over the truth, is nothing good for itself once it’s put up for display? What I write…does it reflect what I am at all? If it’s all a bunch of lies, is there something in the lies that really, truly capture reality? Or is it just false through and through?
**
Monday, May 25, 2009
innocence
It was fine, all fine, I suppose. I guess I'm just not that sort of a girl, who does that sort of a thing, but then, why do I have to label myself anything? Why do I have to *be*? Why can't I just live?
My nonchalantness shocks me a little. It's just...whatever. Is it? Is it supposed to be whatever? Is it only whatever because the person I care about is separate from the person I have fun with...so that now I need not stir up some new obsession?
"...so innocent" Looking back, I decide that this is the pivoting moment. When, instead of taking offense, I realize that perhaps this is what I am now, and what kind of person I'm supposed to be with, and that gap, well, that gap can't be mended. Or maybe, I no longer want to mend it.
**
My nonchalantness shocks me a little. It's just...whatever. Is it? Is it supposed to be whatever? Is it only whatever because the person I care about is separate from the person I have fun with...so that now I need not stir up some new obsession?
"...so innocent" Looking back, I decide that this is the pivoting moment. When, instead of taking offense, I realize that perhaps this is what I am now, and what kind of person I'm supposed to be with, and that gap, well, that gap can't be mended. Or maybe, I no longer want to mend it.
**
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
transfer
I’m really starting to get that itch. You know, for something to happen. And the thing is, I always hang on a lot longer than the other End. And I remember all the things that End has said, has done, has looked.
And worse than this fixation on the past? I obsess about a future, a future that might not be realized. Until I brew it up to a bubbling point, at which I transfer this craziness to reality, to actual, tangible actions that affect actual, tangible people.
**
And worse than this fixation on the past? I obsess about a future, a future that might not be realized. Until I brew it up to a bubbling point, at which I transfer this craziness to reality, to actual, tangible actions that affect actual, tangible people.
**
Saturday, May 16, 2009
cycles
I wonder if it gets easier each time you do it, like a hideous crime of some sort
--you just sort of detach yourself from...I don't know, the guilt, maybe, or feeling when you are committing this deed, or feeling in general, feeling itself, feeling anything--or nothing--at all.
**
--you just sort of detach yourself from...I don't know, the guilt, maybe, or feeling when you are committing this deed, or feeling in general, feeling itself, feeling anything--or nothing--at all.
**
Monday, May 4, 2009
false start
The more I think about it, the more false it seems. So that everything I thought is built on an illusion.
I wonder if you can only let go of something only when you have grasp on something else, no matter how fictitious that replacement may be.
I really wish my hands could just be empty for a while, and not wrap greedily around some new desire as the old one slips away.
What is this illusory person doing for us? Does he simply stand for some sort of security, giving us an idea to hold on to?
The thing is, I don't want to look forward, I just want to stand still. At this infinitesimally small point, squeezed into a blot in time, where the past and future are nonexistent, and stay here for a while.
**
I wonder if you can only let go of something only when you have grasp on something else, no matter how fictitious that replacement may be.
I really wish my hands could just be empty for a while, and not wrap greedily around some new desire as the old one slips away.
What is this illusory person doing for us? Does he simply stand for some sort of security, giving us an idea to hold on to?
The thing is, I don't want to look forward, I just want to stand still. At this infinitesimally small point, squeezed into a blot in time, where the past and future are nonexistent, and stay here for a while.
**