Suppose there is a God, and you could talk to It and say the thing that mattered to you absolutely above all else, but were only allowed one sentence -- would yours start with Please, Thank You, or Sorry?
On a different note entirely, Blavatsky says:
Nature gives up her innermost secrets and imparts true wisdom only to him who seeks truth for its own sake, and who craves for knowledge in order to confer benefits on others, not on his own unimportant personality.
Of course, there is no way of knowing whether this is true or not - but if it were, then I guess the questions that keep me up at night will never be answered for me.
I don't know how that makes me feel.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Monday, 27 September 2010
To be in love, rather than just outside of it, peering in.
Language is deadening and hopelessly clumsy, sure. But underneath clodhopper words that trample across white spaces, there is something sharp and crystalline.
To be in love is to recall the touch of a lovers skin, sitting here in the office, and to be transported in a lightsecond to yesterday (or tonight!), so that you are no longer in the office, the phone is not ringing, the last few weeks and months of thinking suddenly dissolve and that was not the security guard who just locked you in. Fuck.
Language is deadening and hopelessly clumsy, sure. But underneath clodhopper words that trample across white spaces, there is something sharp and crystalline.
To be in love is to recall the touch of a lovers skin, sitting here in the office, and to be transported in a lightsecond to yesterday (or tonight!), so that you are no longer in the office, the phone is not ringing, the last few weeks and months of thinking suddenly dissolve and that was not the security guard who just locked you in. Fuck.
Sunday, 26 September 2010
To be better. To feel better. To know better.
To know how.
To know why it seems so important.
To see and to understand. To be able to read the world and love it.
And above all: To see if there is anything beyond that "grey rain curtain" and if there is, to fly towards it, arms outstretched, smiling, and with no regrets.
These are things that seem to give one wings when one thinks about them. And yet each step seems slow and excruciating. Each drop of understanding fragile and hardwon and always ready to be undone. And each time one pauses, one sees ones feet more tired, more bloody, than when one started out. One seems further than when one started out. And yet there is no choice but to go on.
Sometimes I wish I could just Topshop and go to the cinema and make out and buy shoes and find that enough. But I cannot. Those things make me smile, of course and give me some lightness. But they don't fill this huge yawning hole that seems to stretch wider every day, full of more questions and never any real answers.
To know how.
To know why it seems so important.
To see and to understand. To be able to read the world and love it.
And above all: To see if there is anything beyond that "grey rain curtain" and if there is, to fly towards it, arms outstretched, smiling, and with no regrets.
These are things that seem to give one wings when one thinks about them. And yet each step seems slow and excruciating. Each drop of understanding fragile and hardwon and always ready to be undone. And each time one pauses, one sees ones feet more tired, more bloody, than when one started out. One seems further than when one started out. And yet there is no choice but to go on.
Sometimes I wish I could just Topshop and go to the cinema and make out and buy shoes and find that enough. But I cannot. Those things make me smile, of course and give me some lightness. But they don't fill this huge yawning hole that seems to stretch wider every day, full of more questions and never any real answers.
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
The things that really keep me up at night
Who am I?
Who are we?
Why are we?
Why am I here?
If not me, is there someone else?
How long do we have to find out?
*run on a continual loop until dawn, when to the sound of seagulls awaking, I finally fall asleep.
Who are we?
Why are we?
Why am I here?
If not me, is there someone else?
How long do we have to find out?
*run on a continual loop until dawn, when to the sound of seagulls awaking, I finally fall asleep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)