and the trash that comes with it
the price we must pay for living in a wondrous world
is that we are what we are
and we are scum
we are a plague upon the ground
what is left to enjoy but the dregs of the disgrace
the final outcry of nature
for us to leave and never come back
a last attempt to rid the original from the sickness
everything can be made into a sickness
this love i feel
this privilege of breath
it affects someone in some way
i long for clarity and
a world of see-through glass and no mistakes
a world of unparalleled forgiveness
this is an enormous task to undertake
effort and time must be spent
what we have now must be sacrificed
if we want to change anything
anything, if we want to change anything
we have to make things new
here is björk performing one of my favorite pieces of music
i guess i just don't really understand the meaning of feelings, of what is felt. we expect them, though, and the absence of them is cause enough for us to worry. we would rather live in a world full of feelings than a world without them. and by feelings i don't just mean a reaction of the senses, something involuntary and common, but rather a unique set of sensations that one cannot discern, cannot summon, cannot control. a spreadsheet of innumerable configurations of colors and temperatures that affect one so deeply, so far inside that you almost dare not follow through to the end.
sometimes i will be near a window or open door and recall a long-lost sentence from a book. souls whirling through the air, a fast-moving object constantly spinning away just out of the reach of your eye - you see just the last trace of its path and then it is gone behind trees or corners of buildings. it puts you in a funny state of mind. why were you chosen to see this phenomenon, and what could it mean? do you follow it in its journey, or trace your steps back to safety? is it a shadow from the past wishing to impart to you secrets you never knew about? or merely a bird, a plastic bag blowing off course...
i long to design and be in control of my living space. there is just too much that i do not know, incredible amounts of knowledge that lead to desired results that i just will never know. i must be taught, i must be shown, like a baby is shown how to accomplish menial tasks. what i desire is a vision of beauty and originality but what must be done to accomplish it cannot be by my own hands. i really don't know what i'm talking about anymore... i just wish i could SHOW the world what is in my mind, i wish i could show myself the reality of what i imagine but it is far too great and just that, imaginative, that it could never exist in real life. why is it that the real world is so unimaginative, yet in my mind anything is possible and completely rational? people go to great lengths to reproduce their dreams and visions yet fall so short, disappointing themselves and leaving many shattered pieces lost in a forgotten hole. maybe that is why daydreams are the only escape, but i don't want to just escape i want to live the dream, i want to live the vision i create! ...
this sounds so ridiculous, like everyone has thought these things before and i am just now realizing a well-known fact. oh well.
i am learning a beethoven sonata that i am not very familiar with despite its very obvious popularity. the appassionata. i think it will go well, i have been spending a lot of my time trying to make friends with it and somehow... make it come alive.
i am so full of anger. hatred towards nothing in particular, just a feeling with nowhere to go and no particular time to shine. just constantly there. is any hatred natural, or is it all placed there by a subliminal force? i cannot hate something without being told why i should hate it, or shown what is hateful about it by another, or lured into the popular opinion of hating it. right? no one goes up to a grape and hates it on the spot. they might dislike it on the basis of taste, but to hate something so harmless is purely the doing of humans. i wish these kinds of feelings would go away and stop taking over my entire state of being when i least expect it. nothing is worth that hatred, this world has some terrible things in it but to waste my energy hating it would be to wither myself away faster than i am meant to wither away.
love is a much greater source of energy. it is an unending spiral of complicated feelings, mazes of confusion, infinite darkness and infinite light. it has no beginning or end, it follows no rules, it isn't created nor destroyed, it merely exists all around us and inside us for eternity. much like music. these are things we attribute words to yet have no idea what is really confined inside their essence, we just know the most basic and fundamental elements that present themselves to us as these things. we try to connect dots between them, find some semblance of meaning... despite all of our science and great leaps and bounds we are so clueless to the things that ultimately run our lives.
to be open