Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Can anybody tell me a story about schizotypy?
A bad memory is a useful thing, it's the senses that betray you.
It's the middle of the night and despite well-intentioned resolutions of early to bed and early to rise I'm well and truly awake. My book awaits but am reminded of a conversation this evening, about academics and their fragile egos. And how grad school is but a gradual erosion of one kind of ego and its reproduction into another, far more dangerous construction of elitism and mental fanfare.

I don't know. I remember working and facing similar experiences in terms of having to deal with professional power relationships and learning to not only work around them, but lie, manipulate and wax eloquent in the hope of being on the upper end of continnum someday. And I am not too sure if I will not go back. Somehow it seems like today is always the dress rehearsal to a never appearing tomorrow. And dress rehearsals, while fun, are not potentially risky. There is no audience to appease and no performance to pull off. It is all a tacit recognition of the frivolity of life. Passing time between the cradle and the grave...

And of course, when I have bills to pay or lives to lose, I no longer continue in the fantasmic assumption of my middle-class stability. But as I keep asking people who are definitely wiser and warmer, what is this all about? Why must we live after all? And why isn't euthanasia legal? Why is everything except life a choice? Or are the choices but Kafka's hundred gates that stave the message and the messiah? Hell and damnation, I need chocolate. Going to get some.