I just posted a whole bunch of back-dated entries pulled from my livejournal. It’s nice to have easily indexed categories for them. Enjoy!
I just finished reading Vonnegut’s Bluebeard, and I am absolutely blown away. A happy ending? This really rocks my world.
For some reason I’ve identified with Vonnegut a lot lately–not so much directly with the subject matter, but with the broader themes of disillusionment and the loss of innocence. Every Vonnegut book I’ve read so far has had a pretty dark ending, except for this one. What does this mean? Does it mean that my life will turn out happily, or is it just another one of life’s little disillusionments?
And maybe someday this will be
(like others that were sweet before)
Another painful memory.
A thought that once contented me
Is now a great mnemonic chore,
And maybe someday this will be
Another glass epiphany
That shatters when it hits the floor,
Another painful memory.
Yet in denial, I can flee
The warning I cannot ignore,
“And maybe someday this will be”
Those cursed words can often be
The ever-growing basis for
Another painful memory
I stubbornly choose not to see
What lurks behind the dusty door:
“And maybe someday this will be
Another painful memory”
I’m thinking of writing a short story featuring a character who is extremely disillusioned with life. Here are some things I’d imagine he/she would say:
Life is like reading a great work of literature and marvelling at the symbolism and the nuance, and then meeting the author and learning that he didn’t intend any of it.
The disciples were always calling themselves “fishers of men.” Or was it Jesus who called them that? Who the hell remembers. Anyway, if Jesus is a fisher of men, he’s been playing some kind of demented catch and release game with me. This sure would be ironic if I had been a priest or something. Think about it. All this fuckin irony, wasted on little old me.
There are some 500 memos with my name on them floating around the world. Muwahaha. Haha. hah. I feel so powerful.
The memos are in Austin, Dallas, New York, DC, Moscow, Beijing, Singapore, and London. Why are they better-traveled than I? Depressing.
The clouds were beautiful today–very dark gray, but rent with sunlight. Around 7:30 tonight the sky looked absolutely amazing.
I still haven’t started packing for my weekend trip. Oh well, have toothbrush, will travel, right?
In many ways it was perfect:
Your smiles echoed mine, vainly suppressed.
You were my reflection,
To be touched but never embraced.
Everything I saw
I saw with you in view
You central, you peripheral,
You.
But now I see that I am your reflection,
Existing only within your vision,
Pining for my Narcissus.
And yet it is an imperfect analogy,
For I were your reflection;
You, Narcissus,
You would want me.
There’s nothing better than gabbing with a girlfriend while getting all twenty nails done…except for gabbing with a guy friend. Photomatt gets nine points for being secure in his masculinity and going under the clippers. I think I know one reason why I like hanging out with guys so much–they are usually more willing than the average girl to discuss things candidly. Of course, my female friends are exceptions to the rule.
The unsightly Barney-like purple is vanquished! In its place lives the current color scheme. And so on. Photomatt did a nice job obeying my every whim, as always. I’ll probably do some serious retro-posting soon to fill the empty void that is Indecisiongirl. Take that however you will.
This is the first post actually written by me, Indecisiongirl. It is nonetheless a very dull post.
