Thursday, August 08, 2002

 

Strange



The other morning, I went to bed at 1.00am and woke up at 3.20am. Why? because I had
a dream where I was walking myself up. It was a bizzare and unsettling dream. I mean,
there I was dreaming that I was sleeping and there I was shaking my sleeping
self awake.

I can remember that my sleeping self didn't want to wake up.

"It's too early"! he (I?) said

"No" said my other self pointing at my alarm clock,it's three twenty."

And sure enough I awoke and it was 3.20.


"There's a sign post up ahead".


Tuesday, August 06, 2002

 

The Power and The Paradox Of Keeping A Journal



May you live in interesting times- ancient Chinese saying


It was, I think, the French 'philosopher' Jacques Derrida who claimed that the repetition of the same is the 'death of any system'.

And there's nothing like keeping a daily journal to remind oneself of that fact.


There's nothing like a journal to remind oneself that one is in a rut, that one's life has become mundane, routine, repetitive,
systematized,


Dead.



But there in lies the power and the paradox of keeping a journal.


The less one does the more time one has to write but then one does not have much to write about and, conversely, the more one does
the more one has to write but less time to write it down.

(Yes, I know that this isn't really a 'paradox' but I am going for a dramatic effect.)


And thus, reminded of the dull repetitiveness of one's life, one is usually spurned on to 'doing things', getting in amongst it', 'getting a

life'.


That is the power of keeping a journal. But it comes usually, as mentioned above, at the expense of the journal.Hmmmmm, it would


Hmmmm, it seems that people either slow down or stop all together their journal if their lives are either too 'mundane' or

'dramatic'. One's journal then is a good barometer for gauging the balance one's life.


My musings have ended go in peace.



 

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Monday, August 05, 2002

 

Beautifully Written Stuff About The Banal



I write everyday but I am by no means a prolific writer. I am prolific when it comes to

ideas. They never stop coming.But more often than not something happens between

the getting of the idea and its execution (i.e. its being written out as a fully blown piece

of work.) That something is my 'internal censor'. A surly cantankerous son of a bitch

that doesn't want to me write and is always screaming out:


"That's boring"!

"Who would want to read about that?"

"Who gives a damn".


One way that I have found to combat my internal censor is to read. And for me,

the best sort of stuff to read is beautifully written stuff about the banal. Poems and

prose that deal with the drab, the domestic, and the humdrum. Boring stories, dull

stories or, rather, stories that seem boring that seem dull when you

read them for the first time but then,later on, when they have called you back to re-read

them again and again -you find with each subsequent reading that they become less dull,

less boring. They (these stories) remind you that you can write about anything as long as

you write about it well.


Anyway, I've decided to curtail my writings for a while and just write in this Blogg for a month

or so and do some reading. Oh, and some living. Having a life is good too. I read that somewhere.


Another Mystery -Raymond Carver
Just an hour or so ago...I picked up my own suit
from the dry cleaners and hung it carefully behind the back seat.
I drove it home, opened the car door
and lifted it out into the sunlight. I stood there a minute
in the road, my fingers crimped on the wire hanger. Then
tore a hole through the plastic to the other side. Took one of
the empty sleeves between my fingers and held it-
the rough palpable fabric. I reached through to the other side.

Putting It All In

Short Outlines of Books by Estonian Authors






Sunday, August 04, 2002

 

Something That Annoys Me



I hate it when a person mentions what particular category a certain friends of theirs belongs to in order to appear 'cool' 'accepting' and 'liberal'.


E.g: " I had dinner with my gay friend, Steve, last night".
" I went to the movies with my friend, Helen, who SINGS IN THAT REALLY FAMOUS BAND".


And after the person finishes telling you about 'dinner with Steve' or about the 'movie with Helen'- all you can think, as I have already said, is that the only reason why the person mentioned that Steve is gay and that Helen sings in a famous band is in order to self-promote him/herself.

So, as that you might think, and perhaps, say:


"Wow! This person is Sooooooo cool, he/she has a gay friend and a friend who sings in a famous band."


But, fuck, how 'cool', 'accepting', and 'liberal' can be a person be if he/she divides his/her friends into categories in a lame attempt to appear to be anything but the banal non-entity (at best) or, the 'bigot in liberal's clothing (at worst) that he/she really is.


So, the next time you hear some one doing what I have just described; wait until they have finished speaking, and then say:


"This guy I sort of know, who's a bit a cunt himself, who is a nobody , called David, thinks that people like you are pretentious wanker arseholes."

Then proceed to poke that person in the eyes 'Mo' style.





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