met a childhood aquaintance i only remembered by her bedroom. i heard her name and looked at her dress, asked if she was the one with the orange bedroom. baffled by the specific memory, she reassured me that she got rid of the orange walls long ago. her dress today was the same colour.
28online today i found a bruneian library association founded by bruneian students of the 80s. brunei, brunei... it all exists. yet somehow it doesnt. the best i could find here was a 20$ entry fee to discuss the "book of the month". twenty quid for a chat? ffffffffffffffffffuck ooooff. commodified hobby groups must exist i guess, but i would prefer it if they were almost not trying to be one (a hobby group) at all. more a gracious neighbour's open doors in the name of intellectual discussion every tuesday afternoon. frankly i am not sure what intellectual discussions i am craving anymore. that live thing in me--or at least the need to confirm its existence through exchanges--has almost died. but im still high on the fantasy of community. i know the only visitors i would get through my open door are delivery drivers and menacing cats. what lonely islands we live on. i had that thought while watching marvin the martian and looking at the backgrounds. our gatherings almost resemble isolated planets in a black void. and we exist in lit circles connected by thin roads. i guess that is why you commodify. who is worth leaving their planet and treading the thin road for? i have nothing to offer but the dust swept off my doormat and half formed thoughts.
26ashamed to say ive abandoned work for a week now to touch a little grass and afraid to say ive touched too many. im high. and im starting to have nightmares about work. i had a dream today, that we went to survey the women about what they thought of the place (shit place it was). they were all agriculturalists, i somehow knew. these fabled women. so i took one for a survey. but she started telling me how to do my job. when i woke up i did none. just like the day before. and before. and before. i am waiting for godot. whatever that means. i dont enjoy an abstraction of what im supposed to do. im not a visionary, sadly. me and pozzo both. forget that. let me talk vague happy talk. the past few months were ones of intense brooding, if that wasnt reflected in my writing already. ive reached a real resolution though. thanks not to my brooding but reality and a tad of courage. to illustrate what happened to me, ive hit a wall i told myself i liked. by hitting this wall, i finally got a feel of it, its reality, and i realised: i dont like this wall. i didnt build this wall. i dont want this wall. but i could not, walls are permanent, somewhat sortof. instead of getting rid of it i leaned on the wall and cried. ten others were built around me then. i failed to see however that wrecking balls were not illegal. at least, not rightly so. the burden lifted somehow, i cant explain it in abstract, concrete or soil. the people around me were not as immovable, i was not as guilty, life is not as such. negotiate, talk, be honest. thats all i can offer. only when you are unreasonably shut down should you succumb to the walls or explode. for now i drill a hole, but im nowhere near as scared. i am grateful for my world.
finished reading waiting for godot.
wristissus and goldwatch reunite at last. still acclimating to rejoining time culture.
The time flies. The time flies feed on rotting clocks.
things i would like to do in order of legality:
read waiting for godot act ii
work on a creative project with a childhood friend
expose and share the inner workings of my anti haul mindset to the world
successfuly fail at being a charming young lady
a last minute shop, a last minute pack. rings? i had more suitable ones in my nightstand drawer. my rational mind was not with me. its not with me when i shop. but i seek out windows whenever i can to get a sense of time. what is the difference between a solitary confinement inmate and a mall shopper's sense of time? nothing. contemplated buying another ikea helmer the other day to organise the things i own. but id not like to own much in the first place. a wardrobe, a desk, a nightstand, an inefficient bookshelf, a coat rack. the coat rack holds more than coats, the bookshelf holds more than books, the nightstand holds more books than the bookshelf... im going to bite down on a cloth rag and do one more purge.
16how many world cups till the sun explodes? or slowly engulfs earth, moving temperate zones one planet over. hello mars. could everyone go? true aliens. finally united, one xenophobic enemy. who will it be? MARVIN! or us. chauvinism always finds a way. even on mars. either way. tragic. the memory of earth. planetsickness. no more eiffel tower. no more taj mahal. or is this a dead patriot, a traditionalist, a little bit of earth still speaking?
6last night's mixed media mayhem produced these two not-so-hard-to-look-at pages. ive embraced using stencils and colours instead of hand drawing and cutting everything. i feel cheap, but i know im being deceived. plus gel plates are so cool! i can see myself finishing a journal again after a year long hiatus. bliss. this is what my journals used to look like before i discovered mixed media grandmas on facebook. please say you see the dan eldon influence. beside that i am so tired. i keep work work working that when i decide to take a break i forget what its like to live. i suspect thats something everyone saw in me already lol. a robot. well, this robot was having a hard time deciding how to be human for the next few minutes. nothing too heavy like art journalling, but nothing too passive like watching tv. i remembered just now that i settled on finishing my book. huh. in the past few days if i had any thoughts piled up in memory at all, i would write them then post anything fun here. i guess this is how i'll spend my break today too. this is my first time typing directly on the html file though. dont say something weird. boioioioioing. what im currently working on offers no reward but the satisfaction of winning, and who knows if even a chance at that is guaranteed. time works against me no matter how relentlessly i work, and my team has long since went to bed. i feel like sisyphus and atlas at once, doing a heavy task i might not finish and doing it alone. i am told to quit many times if its going to be this way, and yeah id love to. but this is my first shot at the club run by men i so badly want to belong to. working makes me feel like they listen to me when it feels least like it. maybe thats why i can work when travelling (ie. dont value my time lol), and like to spend my time being anal (sorry) about rainwater harvesting and whatnot. so i am extremely tired, but a good kind of tired. i wish i could stop writing here for weeks then come to you with a boring life update like all the og bloggers do today, because they have a life. but restraint and having a life are skills ive lost long ago.
5i went to sleep having read a very strange story, and it gave me stranger dreams, swimming with bananas and teacups, in the penal colony.* i slept not understanding a thing. i could have googled an explanation, but i didnt want my drowsiness to flitter away. and i wanted to use my brain a bit, like in the olden days. my misunderstanding was largely due to speed reading and my refusal to think, which snowballed towards the end. but i am not rereading that story (i did not enjoy it. because it wasnt animated.) i learn that the traveller acted the way he did apparently out of cowardice. i will be blaming that on the cultural norms surroudning cowardice during kafka's time; i understood it as arrogance. god damn maybe i should reread it. anyways, in terms of bananas and teacups, i travel to my destination but find a panopticon of the people i needed a breather from taking that very breather with me. i feel ashamed to let go in a foreign land as i intend to. and i am afraid to swim in the water. but fuck it i jump in, with banana and teacup, and we swim and swim, while the people watch us from over the embankment railing. in the end teacup carries banana out of the water, but teacup has a hard time getting out. how shameful. i told my mom about the dream of my own people suffocating me abroad, and the antropomorphic kitchen madness. she said it means im going to have fun. she always interprets a bad dream with its inverse. for reasons i wont say here, im starting to think shes right. things are not bad as i made them seem to be. every day i am surprised i can breathe a little more than i originally thought i could. maybe the rules are not so absolute. maybe i did build this cage myself. this is how you write a coward, kafka.
*there were a few sequences i would liked to have seen animated by fleischer. this passage , and this , and this . all of it. i could see it so vividly in my mind (is there a need then?). this is the second thing i have read in a fleischer style, the first being that half and half god passage from steppenwolf. actually, i can see that entire book animated by him. youre forgiven for not seeing a connection, but trust me. what i enjoy about kafka's work are the strange details he always thinks to mention, in both dialogue and narration. his characters are human but nonetheless too transparent. kafka's a strange bird, and best a creative writer. in this one i was well entertained by the condemned man and the soldier. theyve had a strong effect on me, i dont know what it is. i will be thinking about them for a while. 2on the swing. when i look up, the star above my head swings too. but it isnt moving. whats moving are the wall, the tree, and the streetlights that frame it. the star is, compared to the wall, tree, and streetlights, essentially static. its with me. and it would remain with me even if i walked one kilometre ahead. while the wall and trees would be gone. i think ive hypnotised myself staring at this star. and i wish i didnt have to crane my neck so painfully to keep admiring it, but bortle 9 doesnt leave you with many options.
1feeling uninspired. and a little apathetic towards my acquaintances. if i could snap my fingers and replace everyone i knew with purely random humans from around the globe, i would.
disappointing. just like every chocolate mousse ive had in the past month.
jolly july i guess.