just why did i leave my job? why, i wonder as i sit in this class with v sleeping beside me and as i listen about marginal costs and average production... is this what i should have left a-more-than-average life for? maybe not...
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
agony
it is as if a good title could get you writing everything that boils and simmers and anxiously awaits its expulsion. but it rarely does for me. more of a restraint than a freeing mechanism. i wondered, as i always do, what must i begin with...
first of all, i must acknowledge to myself that i will never be one of those people who will blog furiously and everyday... with this acceptance (in much the same way that every which way i ve led my life, it is that of an elite and perhaps even elitisit) comes the relief of a constrained thought.
a new life has been started... new life... how eager one is to always start on a new life, on a clean slate, as if it really could happen... but anyway, somehow, moved myself to a new city... with perfectly reasonable aims for future intellectual growth and any other incidental growth... with the hope (never has there been a more detestable word) that things will take on a different trajectory... that for some reason i will be efficient and pursue the goals towards a "better human being" with fervour, vigour and passion... bollocks...
it is the same old life. the sameness of the methods, the oldness of the efforts are getting under my skin and wanting to desperately be different... but the craving for a non-existence, for a simple vanishing is flooding in... and in some perverted sort of way, i welcome it with cruel laughter as it rips apart the intentions and the vain efforts.
follows is the desire to be expel all those close to me from a previous life. yes, i recognise the arrogance of it, but yet in this moment of honesty, i cannot deny the existence of the thought. i chart cruel ways in which i could do cut them all out without evoking any response from an deep-in-slumber conscience. maybe i will not pick up calls, maybe i will not call.... it s as if in the hurting of them , i can hurt myself and in that hurt i could be reborn.
reborn into another world of me. where the inner life will be devoid of all these gnawing and life sucking thoughts and that i could again begin to feel...for a long long long moment.
i must perhaps end this post but then i think i have hardly begun to write what i want to. that the words are still half said, that thoughts still remain to be expelled and banished into a cosmos no one enters and will be forgotten in the daily terror of living...but then i pause and i wonder. i wonder if i must at all write.. if this is yet another vain attempt to make me feel, to make me feel alive... and if this like most others will merely end in futility.
first of all, i must acknowledge to myself that i will never be one of those people who will blog furiously and everyday... with this acceptance (in much the same way that every which way i ve led my life, it is that of an elite and perhaps even elitisit) comes the relief of a constrained thought.
a new life has been started... new life... how eager one is to always start on a new life, on a clean slate, as if it really could happen... but anyway, somehow, moved myself to a new city... with perfectly reasonable aims for future intellectual growth and any other incidental growth... with the hope (never has there been a more detestable word) that things will take on a different trajectory... that for some reason i will be efficient and pursue the goals towards a "better human being" with fervour, vigour and passion... bollocks...
it is the same old life. the sameness of the methods, the oldness of the efforts are getting under my skin and wanting to desperately be different... but the craving for a non-existence, for a simple vanishing is flooding in... and in some perverted sort of way, i welcome it with cruel laughter as it rips apart the intentions and the vain efforts.
follows is the desire to be expel all those close to me from a previous life. yes, i recognise the arrogance of it, but yet in this moment of honesty, i cannot deny the existence of the thought. i chart cruel ways in which i could do cut them all out without evoking any response from an deep-in-slumber conscience. maybe i will not pick up calls, maybe i will not call.... it s as if in the hurting of them , i can hurt myself and in that hurt i could be reborn.
reborn into another world of me. where the inner life will be devoid of all these gnawing and life sucking thoughts and that i could again begin to feel...for a long long long moment.
i must perhaps end this post but then i think i have hardly begun to write what i want to. that the words are still half said, that thoughts still remain to be expelled and banished into a cosmos no one enters and will be forgotten in the daily terror of living...but then i pause and i wonder. i wonder if i must at all write.. if this is yet another vain attempt to make me feel, to make me feel alive... and if this like most others will merely end in futility.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)