keep the modem running, Abby
2002-01-09 - 11:01 a.m.
A brief synopsis of the week.
sleep...
...sleep.
clean house
sleep+
"no operating system found."
"no operating system found."
"no operating system found."
*twitch*
'the people change, but the names stay the same' -Garret
There is magic in the world. A lady in Maryland was in the news the other day for charming four men with voodoo or potions and killing three of them. There are people in east Asia who float inches from the ground. People are brought back from the dead on an everyday basis in our hospitals...when it rains, it rains beautiful arcs of light in the sky.
I spent the whole of today twitching and shivering in-between spasms. Must be trying to quit coke again...or maybe it was incidental. It might have been a nervous twitch, the likes of which haven't existed in Mynd in a very long time. I'll call up jon tomorrow, I'll call up becca...and there's no knowing about uphills or downhills from there. I didn't used to be like this...I used to know what was in store for me five seconds before it happened. I'd pop the future into my skull, flop it up-side-down and right-side-up for a few seconds, ponder the mal-appropriateness of my action about to be taken, and finally decide to do it. You see, someone once asked me (I think it was myself, for I used to talk to myselves a great deal...) what I would do with the knowledge of the future. Just a few seconds of it, nothing big. I responded to myself with something concerning the action of catching salt-shakers before they rolled off the table. Before I knew it, I was catching saltshakers before they even tipped over. So I started looking further into the future, and maybe I saw some things I shouldn't have, and maybe I didn't see anything at all that a child should. And most likely, I made things out to be all the things they weren't. There were memories-to-be about a place that I thought was college, but was really MSSM, a girl here and there, and just general humdrum things...and after my eighteenth birthday...nothing. Of course, I assumed that this meant my death...which was somewhat reassuring. The mistake came when I looked* into Sister's future...and saw nothing of her beyond the age of fifteen. At the time, it made sense to assume that this meant that she, like me, would die at an early age...what I hadn't considered was that after my 'death', it woudn't make sense for me to be able to see her. Her future was not in mine, literally. And it turns out that my 'death' wasn't a death after all...I just...seemed to have lost my future-ness. Sister asked me the other day if she was going to live long enough to graduate. And quite certainly, I had no idea what to tell her.
Caught myself the other day, wondering what it would be like to have a wall of flesh. The flesh one finds on the inside of another person's thigh. Tingling. Stretched and piled across the whole of a wall, like patchwork quilt wallpaper. Eventually I came to the unanimous decision that such thoughts were not good, and at the very least, malproductive. Eventually.
I was once told by someone (I think it might have been myself) that every writer eventually must accept the idea that their ideas must come from Somewhere...the set of thoughts that come from divine influence is empty. The problem with most writers, however, is that they look beyond the box, and think they need not look further. They write their fantasy stories based on life experiences, write their non-fiction on the inspiration from the aforementioned fantasies, and, in general, help toward the revision of a single book: the book of life [experience]. There are few, however, which know of the existence of other great books.
Especially for those people who would have known me outside ICQ. If you don�t want to see me on a particular day, I�d rather you just be out with it. Bluntness is appreciated, sometimes even more than the truth.
We have suggested before that a person's person can be defined by what they choose to do in their spare time. There is a second part to this theory however, because there is no clear line between the things that we want to do and the things that we need to do (because the manner in which we perform our needs is driven by want). And if one's behavior (of which thought is part) is the only thing that is indicative of one's personality, one must not be exhibiting that personality when he/she does nothing. Nothing, being the set of behaviors carried out by the person they calls No One. Nothing, the personality of the one they calls No One.
On that note: I�m dropping ICQ...just don�t plan to use it much anymore. It used to be that I�d have some really wonderful conversations with people over the net. It seems that everyone I used to talk to is either never online anymore or not as exciting as they used to be. Or maybe they just...got lives. I should really think about following suit in this department...I�ve been without one for so long. I�ll still be reachable by e-mail, at least until that starts to get old as well too.
"If every person mourned every death of every other person on the planet, the oceans would be deeper, and our accomplishments as a race would be shallower." �Nemo
*this verb is really quite out-of-place, in that it was more passive than active...as one can say that one dreams, but really, one has very little choice in the matter, and the only real decision made is to keep one's trap shut the next morning [or not].
