Home
   
11:30am 21/08/2003
  Do we create mythology in our lives?

( You're damned right we do )		  
     Read 1 - Post
 
Today's Truism   
07:41pm 19/08/2003
 
If most people saw themselves in a movie, they would laugh, or cry, or be disgusted at the character. We walk away from movies feeling superior, feeling that we could never be as weak or stupid or immoral or evil as the characters on screen. But we are. Oh, lord, we are.		  
     Post
 
   
11:52am 18/08/2003
 
I am the wind the blows o'er the sea
I am the wave of the deep
I am the bull of seven battles;
I am the eagle on the rock;
I am a tear of the sun;
I am the fairest of plants;
I am the boar for courage;
I am a salmon in the water;
I am a lake in the plain;
I am the word of knowledge;
I am the head of the battle-dealing spear;
I am the god who fashions fire in the head.		  
     Read 3 - Post
 
   
11:30am 18/08/2003
 
I went to a wake yesterday for a woman who was randomly and brutally murdered two weeks ago. I knew her a while back.

It's one of those things that you simply can't describe to people.

The best friend of the victim's brother had a really, really weak handshake. I wondered afterwards if it was his regular handshake or if two weeks of hell had sapped the strength out of his hands.

Her funeral is right now. I'm not there. What would it change if I was?

The family is devoutly catholic, and stereotypical as this analysis may be, that is their rock right now. The rock of ages. But how, how can someone place their knowledge of their daughter's final fate in the hands of a 1500-year old religion?

Some would call it easier. I call it cowardice. There is religion in this world, far older and deeper than the scattered writings of a few dozen Jewish schitzophrenics. If you are too afraid to look for it, to search out your true humanity, then so be it. But I could never be you.

I have the best woman in the world. But we don't do well apart. And the separation is over in exactly a week, so fuck it. Let's blank slate this mother.		  
     Post
 
   
10:02pm 16/08/2003
 
That’s what they all say.

And here I am, trying to assimilate some semblance of eastern philosophy into my life, without a single shred of the culture which created it anywhere around me. THAT’s alienation.

If you could leave your infant child one written sentence before giving them up for adoption, what would you write? If anything at all?

I think most people would either come up with some useless platitude about God, or one of those stereotypical Hallmark “be true to yourself” sentiments.

But I’d like to think that I would be more original and profound.

If I had to list all my current psychological problems, they would be:

  • Fear of my physical masculinity, or more specifically, a lack thereof.

  • Fear of love

  • Fear of sex/women/sexual inadequacy

  • Need for children/younger siblings


And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that when people ask for my opinions on various current issues, I honestly tell them that I have none.

I don’t care about politics. I care about myself. I don’t care about the population. I care about my friends.

Walking around this city, I can see glimpses of people’s lives. Of what, in that instant, is making them tick. I see things in people, I always have. My vision has been strong. And I’m still trying to figure out if that’s a blessing or a curse. Maybe someday Siobhan will be able to tell me. She’s got it, too.

Sometimes I wonder why I get more out of late-night chats with drunken schitzophrenic nutcases than I get from talking to most people I know.

And then I remember: he’s not a nutcase. He’s disconnected, and he hasn’t come back yet. And that means two things:

1) He is, on one hand, immersed in a world of fantasy, but

2) He can also see this world better than most people can.

I don’t know why the idea of my love being with someone shortly before she met me bothers me so much. Scares me so much. Never, ever, on the green fields of this earth has there existed a more loyal companion. She loves me, and I love her. But something about him bothers me. I want him to die. Okay, I don’t, I want him to move to venezuela and live in a tree somewhere, so that I never have to think about or hear about his.

I don’t know why this. All I know is that there is something eternally comforting about your woman’s past dating life being a total bloody mess. And I don’t like that hers isn’t.		  
     Post
 
 
davesemenko
 
 

Advertisement