Sunday, July 17, 2011

I can't believe I only posted once during the holidays. And it was... what it was. You can see it. But I'm past that, for now.

Of course I can't believe a few things right now. Like that I haven't done any homework in two weeks. That the holidays are over. I'm listening to Fight Club as I type. It's fascinating. I watched it again recently, on a whim. Then I listened to it on the train instead of music. I want to learn all the words. Like a song. Now that I want to learn the script off by heart, I immediately have a new appreciation for actors.
What else. Marla Singer has more right to be at testicular cancer. Watch Fight Club. Buy it. The book and the movie. Read it.
Or don't. What will I care.

I wrote this recently. I forget why.
Thank God for bad television, Ginger beer and emotion suppression.
I wish I could say thank God for cheap cigarettes and cheap drinks but I can't and won't. 

I want to feel this again:
I put my headphones in my ears, clicked shuffle and then for a second i wasn't there. Raw power flooded my system and suddenly I wasn't cold, I wasn't afraid. I wasn't worried or alone. In that second all I was was me, perfectly, purely me! And it felt good.

Listen to Gateways by Dimmu Borgir.

Give yourself to the music.
I just feel like talking. Holidays felt good. Of course, they were too short. My computer keeps stuffing up. I'm getting up at 7 tomorrow. Can't believe it. Can't comprehend it, can't process it. Like when I heard that Saint Basil's Cathedral is 450 years old and I could understand how old that is, but the concept that the Coliseum is over 2 thousand years old is incomprehensible. How do you grasp something like that? I can't do it and I doubt you can. Not really. Beyond a certain point years become merely words.

Death was the only absolute value in my world. Lose life and one would lose nothing again forever. Death was far more certain than God, and with death there would no longer be the daily possibility of love dying. The nightmare of a future of boredom and indifference would lift. I could never have been a pacifist. To kill a man was surely to grant him an immeasurable benefit.
-Graham Green, The Quiet American

No comments: