"Although it is part of my nature, I cannot understand all that I am. This means, then, that the mind is too narrow to contain itself entirely. But where is that part of it which it does not itself contain? Is it somewhere outside itself and not within it? How, then, can it be part of it, if it is not contained in it?"
(Saint Augustine, retold by Auster)
And even if there is no answer, I have begun to speak.
Umm. Yes. When strawberries and a spiked waterpipe makes life a little more surreal. I mean, if you can't focus, that's fun right? Spending a night doing irrelevant stuff like laughing and such. I read that french book too, and some Strindberg. SO. it wasn't a complete waste, schoolwise.
My nature is never knowing when to stop. the one who gets an eensy bit more wasted than the rest, an eensy bit too high and continues to smoke even after that. even after the little voice saying "that's enuff". Pressuring others to join the madness. I guess. I just have this dream of meeting someone as completely fucked up as me, who doesn't know when to stop either. Because where is the fun in stopping? Even if it continues beyond what is right and good, that other place you enter is such an interesting space. Just because it is forbidden. I believe that forbidden fruit makes it more interesting. That to some extent, the law criminalizes. Too bad I can't explain it in a tok-ish way so that people would actually listen and get impressed by all the great arguments. It makes perfect sense in my head, but can i relay this information to others? Oh, the limits of language.
Understanding the limits of language and art. Such is my extended essay. don't make much sense but hey, i enjoyed writing it. and exploring it. and auster awesomness. you should really read his meta-ficticious works. not that im pressuring you or anything. i really gotta stop doing that, no matter how much i enjoy it.
i wanna kiss you but i better not touch. poison. rediscovering great songs has become one of my favourite passtimes. Anberlin's new album isn't that killer, but their old songs will be in my heart forever. random love. and random moments. took the hand of a preacher man, and we made love in the sun. Oh. hormones are an amazing thing, the rollercoaster they offer. if you let them rule, which i do. one day incredibly låt-mig-va, the next jumping on people, longing for closeness, for touch, and the next normal. well as normal as it gets. think we hang ourselves. too much to that concept of normality. even if chinese food or subway creates an illusion of making sense of the world.
making sense is not easy. can't you see the smoke? And OH did i die in tok class today. "Imagine if everyone in this classroom was high, we would not seek knowledge, we would just sit and enjoy life". Killer argument by Seraj. Loved that. even the teacher couldn't deny how awesome that would be. i suspect she's experimented with recreational stuff in her youth. but shhh don't tell anyone i said that.
have a pressure to be deep and say meaningful stuff. a pressure to perform well in school, be liked and have loads of friends and do fun stuff. when will it end. the end credits and the curtain fall. someone asked what if you die today, well will it make much difference, why can't i be indifferent, why would they cry, and why is it wrong, and why do i think about it, and why and why and what not. wear a halo and it breaks, a sinful end, the fall from babel and the fall of language and man. voice of the voiceless and love of the loveless. the blind can only see with their hands and maybe that's a sight more true than we'll ever know.
so how can we know? why do we want. i am not being wasted. why do i want. the halo is crumbling and the angels falling down on their knees, praying for the godless who didn't ever believe. it's apocalypse now baby, every day in my head. and im beginning to sound like one of the crackwhores down that dar alley you would never walk in your senses. but out of senses? then maybe.
why do i memorize, the theatrical lines, why do i lay out for the world to scrutinize, the tangled webs within. i dont want your recognition, because no one can ever know me anyway, a belief i will hold until someone breaks it. and still to this day, the glass cube remains intact. without a scratch. that was not truthful, maybe a scratch or two. what about the feel good drag, the dreary heaviness of every day life and sensory overload.
cyberpunk lolitas serving tea, excuse me this confusion and the black eyeshadow, but i always dreamed of a sweeny todd world of my own. dance to a fight, and stare all day at the problems that wont go away, what's left to collect but the broken hearts, the lost souls, in your top drawer by the swindling stairs. the piano clinking away like a seesaw massacre and the leaves fading to mud. the fleeting voice of life, all but expelled. no i never believed. maybe in fairies but never in god.
God has always been dead so newsflash on Nietzsche. We must be into the abuse.
Goodnight.
