Thursday, February 26, 2004

And in the east
The dawn was breaking
And the world was waking
Any dream will do.

- Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

Monday, February 23, 2004

I have a hundred and one new projects in mind. And no motivation to do the background research. Somebody just pay me to get onto the field! I promise I will immerse myself in the darkest regions of the highest floors of the tallest libraries all of Fall 2004!

Sunday, February 22, 2004

People are dying, killing, raping, looting and pillaging. Others are cooking, sleeping, talking, running. Still others are stopping, staring and starving. Such a miasma of ultimately useless activity. Like passing time between the cradle and the grave, the former never of your making and the latter most often not. Like being told to play till your parent/ parents comes/come to collect you. The uneasy in-between that’s tolerable as long as you do not run out of things to do.

I was on the bus to school yesterday and I watched the driver create his place of work. Entered the bus with a large backpack and a spray-can of stain remover. Proceeded to haul it off his back, set it gently down and got to work on a 5 x 5 space centered around the steering wheel. Fine detergent mists on a 5 second overhaul. A sweep of the dustcloth, a fine adjustment of the seat levers to his precise comfort levels, a wide grin into the rearview mirror and the hum of the engine. It is such a pleasure to watch people at work.

And how do I resolve the micro and the macro, the universal and the particular, this daily battle of meaning? That which is so inane at the level of mankind and so beautiful at the level of the infinitesimal. God does apparently lie in the details. Either that or life is truly elsewhere.

Thursday, February 19, 2004

One true sentence a day. Hemingway must write one true sentence a day, the truest he ever knew. And the day will be done. And he will be able to write again.

I on the contrary have lost the ability to distinguish the true from the want-it-to-be-true. And this from one who prides herself on her objectivity, pragmatism, clarity and will-call-bluff-and-scoff-in-face countenance. And yes I know the truth. Lie I cannot. But the truth I will not tell. Because I can only live on the precipice of reality, the gap that permits the fine balance. Jump I will not and fall I dare not.

I am going to curl into bed and cover myself like a corpse. And I was thinking of other worse days and scarier circumstances. When I couldn't see and wasn't sure if I would be able to. When people around me had patience, warmth and soft voices.
Today I was thinking of her...conversations, alcohol, music...road trips, cooking, shopping and cleaning...haggling, choosing, lying and stealing...I miss you gurl.
I am very very very frustrated. It seems to be one of those things-will-not-go-your-way weeks. And I hate it. Hate it from the bottom of my monologic, underlined, control-freak existence. I hate it. I did say that before, didn't I? Well, I'm saying it again. Hate it. And I'm bored and annoyed with coping. All I want to do right now is kick up my heels and throw them at somebody. The way the trends are going, I'll probably miss by a mile.

A wise friend once lent me a tale. He said that the biggest mistake I could ever make was to make somebody else's story my story. I am what I am and it has nothing to do with what anybody else is. But the problem is that I want what I want and it has everything to do with what somebody else doesn't. It is not as bubble-trapped as I would like it to be. I crave to be Tolstoy and should ideally want to be Dostoevsky, but all I can ever be is folklore, street-rabble and shadow play. These polyphonic voices are bursting my eardrums and threatening my sanity.

Is a craving an addiction? Is an addiction a vice? Is a vice simply the 'other' to a virtue? Will you buy me a ticket to the asylum?

Wednesday, February 18, 2004

I wake up every morning (close to noon actually) and add a few more minutes of sleep to a routine I can ill-afford. Time to get back to lesser sleep and more wide-eyed exhaustion. But these few minutes are my miracle moments, those tiny gaps between dreams and daylight, the revital pills that keep the cynicism at bay, my five-minute magic eyes. My camera to an almost-perfect world. Believable hopes, naive grins and loud laughter. All that in in five minutes. Not bad even if I say so myself:).

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

And it's all happening at the zoo...

Things are moving...not in rapid-fire staccato bursts, but warm-up speeds are definitely heralding a not-so-unpleasant run...people getting married, others not-so-sure, some stationary in their new-found stillness, others sprinting to god-knows-what finale...

And I am going to eat my cereal and walk to the gym.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

A little bit of patience left...shall I save it for a rainy day? I have been waiting, fasting and learning...and I'm getting Hesse wrong here, but I obviously have a long way to go. The more I see life on a linear continuum, the easier I see it slipping away...

But I get back on my feet...with a little help from my friends:)

Sunday, February 08, 2004

The best I can do is preserve moments. No point hanging onto whole spheres of experience. I still have a problem with the 'live in the moment' philosophy but I have decided to have a good time nevertheless. Or I think.

Was a beautiful day yesterday. Carted a pillow and a rug to the lawns next to the library and read in the sun, soaking in the wind. Was far more productive than I have been all month. I am reading a ton of human rights theory all within the context of general priniciples of inapplicability and utopianism. Or 'necessary utopia' as Rawls labels it. I think I should be able to have a valid viewpoint in a month or so. Right now the groundwork is keeping me busy.

Such a hedonistic life, the luxury of contemplation without the necessity of action...

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
And I say it’s all right

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right

Friday, February 06, 2004

This then is the end of the truth as we know it. Give me a weekend and I'll be back on my feet. I need 72 hours of dreamless sleep.

Thursday, February 05, 2004

When it rains, it truly pours!
Hit me one more time and I swear I'll punch you right back...
You can photograph your black eye and blue bruises and frame them for all I care!

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

My sanity is never outside of myself. If only I could stop pacing long enough to remember that!
Fiction is the only truth
Illusion the sole reality

In drugged, drunken sleep we dream
Of things that are and may have been
Different

Monday, February 02, 2004

I don't read too much of fiction anymore. I hardly have enough time to read what I ought to be reading. And even that seems to be all that I do. Survey words, analyze them in the vacuousness of my ignorance and disseminate their pre-decided importance. I even talk like them now. In words bigger than my name and syllables with more weight than meaning. And yes, it all comes together every once in a while. And yes, they all are convenient fictions that we conspirators choose to believe.

And I am mixing my stances.
Some like it hot, some like it cold,
Some like it in the pot, nine days old...

Reading a gorgeous piece of fiction right now. Gorgeous gorgeous slutty melancholic fragmented broken macabre life.
Go pick up 'White Noise'...
Sitting in the library, working on a presentation that I am not sure I want to make, mainly because I have forgotten what I started out wanting to say in the first place. Happens to me all the time. This presentation however is an anthropologist's perspective on blogging. How much more convoluted can it get???

Not to worry, four more years and I definitely will end up fooling myself into another fine mess;), right now it's a not-so-fine mess. Sophistication lacking in all its perverse forms. I need another coat of paint (mother-of-pearl finish no less). Understated, elegant and conducive to the soft light that will surely ruin my eyes.
Good morning Monday! How soon do you think you can leave?

Sunday, February 01, 2004

And this is then the afternoon of my discontent. My inability to judge and my unwillingness to leave.