Wednesday, April 13, 2005 // 7:29 PM
getting to know myself even better
barney was going on on one of his long rants today, all i remember is his putting aesthetics in an ironic little box, and all his what is real what is real schlick, messing with our minds. my mind. yes i am the sort who would put my fingers in my ears, because i have had this conversation a million times and i am no better for it. i am no better for it. go away and let me stew, stew in my blissful ignorance, brush me off and say: you're so stupid but you're happier than me. deny it, i dare you, i dare you to sacrifice your entire life for this principle, the points that we chalk up today arent going to matter when we're all dead.
but please dont give me a current affairs question for interview. yesterday during the-last-ct-session-that-i-shall-ever-go-for i was looking up at the ceiling and trying to imagine what it would be like to walk upon it, while everyone else is falling asleep or thinking of excuses to leave the room. i would stick my head into the aircon vent just for the feeling of that kind of wind, blowing in my face for a few minutes. i think of doing a marilyn monroe. sometimes if i close my eyes i can really imagine that i would have the picture in my mind before me, when i opened them. other times i stare really hard and i can imagine the room filled with pink bubbles, of all shapes and sizes (but primarily spherical, like the good ones usually are), rising from the floor and floating towards the rafters. or the ants are talking to me, crawling in their line towards the door, i eavesdrop on their tinny conversations. time passes a lot faster when you can find a reason to ignore the rest of the world.
everyone stop telling me good things about myself. my ego is getting out of control. i cant take compliments, remember?
i find the idea of trying to sound intellectual a very difficult ordeal. i am too much an absurdist and i dont like the world, dont even talk to me about trying to understand it. what am i doing here. yesterday the thought of going into poly suddenly crossed my mind and it startled me in being something that i have never, ever thought of before. i can imagine things there that i would much rather study, because i dont think the moe is going to give me two thousand bucks for wanting to do fine arts. i have an issue with the name of it, fine arts. i wouldnt classify a great deal of the things i want to do under what that connotates, that is, high art. comic strips, which i have developed a sudden interest in: low art. but the same with music, i would rather listen to good stuff from a bad genre than bad stuff from a typically respectable genre. i felt like laughing when barney said, complete thicko, today, because i dont think i ever want to come to a point where i over-intellectualise life and fail to really live it. yes i want to live it, in the most gloriously lurid fashion possible, at least while i am young and still have this kind of energy. talk to me again when i am oh i dont know, thirty. this is surely a recent development, because i realise i have been pro-intellect for a long, long time, so much as to look down on a general public, unable to contemplate, intellectualise, philosophise. another thought that comes to me is that of: in poly, there is no establishment for me to be anti-establishment about, and this, this poses a possible problem. i cant give you a This Is Right or a This Is Wrong, rather This Is What I Am and who cares for what you're going to think of it, who cares for you? who cares for you.
and bad poetry is just so much more fun to write, anyway.
i did better for napfa 5 items than i ever have before, though i dont think dingo is wrong when he says that some things (at least some thing) have been too inaccurate to count for anything. but i am happy at having finally managed to clear 220 for sbj, unhappy that the sitandreach scale doesnt go beyond 69 cm.
i have snapshots of people that have become incredibly important to me. it matters very little that these are people to whom i dont talk to anymore, or to whom i would mean absolutely nothing to, right now. once upon a time you would have found it impossible to ignore me, once upon a time you wouldnt have wanted to. do you remember the things you shared with me? all this violent living, all this torrid experiencing. i loved it, i loved every moment of it, even while simultaneously getting my heart broken, scratching my eyes out. i would be different and it is all your doing.
why i didnt say this at the time: i didnt want to associate myself with neediness, i didnt want to give you any part of myself. i wanted to be able to say, if you fell off the face of the earth tomorrow, i would be no different for the rest of my days with you. i am sorry at how stupid that has been, i know it is far too late to take things back, right now.
one thing i really admire about you is your easy-going-ness, your simple humility, your ability to be nice, sincerely nice, to a general everybody, most-body. i really cant do that, i cant but yet it is such a beautiful way to be,
im not going to apologize for wanting to move on with my life.