I have a feeling that something is coming to an end. Tho I don’t know what. This isn’t a cryptic, coded message, I just sense that something is almost over. A goodbye feeling.
Metadata is a love note to the future.– http://tumblr.austinkleon.com/post/10770293189
It’s very quiet. I have been sleeping. Since I woke up I have been watching episodes of twit shows that feature Sarah Lane and trying to sound Californian-y.
Excerpts from July 2005
I stumbled upon some of these txt files. I used to write when I felt like it, not regularly enuff to call it a diary. They ramble so. Here are some excerpts. From 19th July 2005 “I feel like i must wander around repeating Willow Willow Willow, over and over again. Or more like I’m so fucked, I’m so fucked, I’m so fucked, I’m so fucked. I can’t stop writing...
(I kept trying to explain what I mean here but I...
Years ago I used to plough through dense and complex, convoluted prose and at the end I’d not only still be standing up I’d be seeking out more to read. As though I was starving (although that was literally true at the time). Henry Jamesian novels with sentences that seemed to go on for half a paragraph. Things in the newspapers that were pages long. I used to read things that...
that I actually am as boring as the world has so far led me to believe.
What is this?
Writing’s slowing down and/or getting harder. I find myself now with things that just seem like self-pity/whining/poor me-ing. And I feel as though I’m taking the self-pity and trying to put a spin on it, pretending that it’s something else. Maybe that’s what the previous post was, I’m not sure. Sometimes I feel that I’m holding things back just for the...
And I just found myself here
I realise that for the past year or so I’ve been feeling that there’s a competition on. And I’m not sure what the rules are, but I can tell that I’m not doing very well at all. I dearly want to get out of the competition, but I don’t recall how I got into it in the first place. It’s like being in a dream, you know something’s happening although you...
Lamplight on Flickr. 10 second video
Some Context/Condensed History
Apparently I find myself fascinating. I didn’t, and yet totally did want to write the previous post cos, from what people tell me, I do a fair job of seeming not hopelessly pathetic. I do try. But that last post, once again cue more shame. I imagine someone, if they were to read my postings, might wonder if I’ve ever “gotten help” or “seen anyone” as the...
Florence a character in the book The Good Soldier carries “heart medicine” with her in a flask. Amyl nitrate that, as she had a weak heart, might one day save her life. After her husband learns that Florence has committed suicide, he discovers what the flask actually contained — “How could I have known that, during all the years of our married life, that little brown flask had...
The World I Found Myself In
I’ve been living life carrying the the heaviness other people’s values, their likes and wants and shoulds. I saw the lives adults around me were living and I felt as thought I rather die than live any of those lives. I feel that I’m completely out of touch with the people I talk to or hear about, that somehow seem to there, around me. Things that other people do seem real, like...
I didn't attend
Bought a ticket for a gig (that’s probably going on right now) but didn’t go. Last month there was a thing for which I’d bought a ticket and I didn’t attend. Feel as though I have failed when the appointed time arrives and I really don’t want to go. I could have gone, it’s not as though I’m in pain, I’m only tired (feeling very heavy). Every time...
Talking to Myself
The reason I like writing is cos it’s making it a lot quieter in my mind. I became used to the internal chatter, all these conversations happening. The conversationalists wander in and settle down. Occasionally they pipe up. I hadn’t realised how many had taken up residence, how many shouted, repetitious arguments were taking place, untilI I began to make note of these things in words....
“I don’t know why I’m posting so much.” I don’t like “why”, so often a useless question. You go astray seeking some definite and specific cause. If you keep regressing in whys what cause do you end up at? Genetics, the Big Bang, some god-like concept that is the why of the way everything is. Why am I the way I am? Why is there something and not nothing? That kind...
I must have listened to/watched Foster the People - Pumped Up Kicks live at Austin City Limits Music Festival on YouTube about 50 times in the past couple of days. Not exaggerating. Hours. I had imagined the words in the chorus went “All the other kids with the pumped up kicks you better run, better run, louder than my gun.” but I googled I think it”s “better run outrun...
I used to read books. Lots of books. I wanted to be submerged in worlds. And now I don’t read books. The last book I read all the way through was “The Medium is The Massage” (which is a short book, has images and the prose is poetic and dense.) It almost hurts now to live in someone’s creation the way I used to when I got through 2 or 3 books a week. I end up getting...