The Past Is a Ferocious Animal
old habits die hard, which is to say they get forgotten and neglected over time. especially internet habits, which start as a reaction to an uninteresting life. the paradox of this particular writing habit of mine, is that i only come back to it when life becomes uninteresting and there is nothing to write about. when i have things to say, I'm far too busy to be concerned with wanting to share it on this so-called "world wide web".
lucky for the 3 possible readers of this blog, my life right now is uninteresting, but I've recently become enamored with the concept of paradoxes (or is it paradoxi?) , and thus i feel like shouting from this crude electronic mountain.
currently, I'm struggling with my own residual self image. for the past 9 years or so, my appearance hasn't changed much, other that a few beards here and there. in an ill-advised and irony/devil and Daniel Johnston inspired act of violence the other day, i changed what i look like. my mind's eye has yet to adapt, and for lack of a better term, its freaking me out. it feels as if I've stolen someone else body and discarded my own in a rubbish bin along the way. i do realized it will change eventually, but its incredibly painful to see something everyone else can no longer see.
a more pressing matter is my apparent lack of focus in this, what i though would be a brilliant, login essay on the state of the world since my last entry. however, to be honest nothing much has really changed. nothing thats still relevant anyway. love comes, love goes, new love comes, wash rinse and repeat.
the real skinny goes a little like this. boy takes trip to earn piece of mind, boy puts piece of mind on shelf and lives in parents basement, refuses to work and tries to be an artist. surprisingly no one tries to stop him this time. boy meets girl, boy meets girl, boy meets girl, boy meets girl. boy wondering is girls like him. boy guesses it doesn't matter because he'll be gone in a month. boy wonders if its shallow to pursue romance for such a short time. boy records extended player record. boy cuts of all his hair. boy is going back to the Yukon soon where things make the most sense to him.
lucky for the 3 possible readers of this blog, my life right now is uninteresting, but I've recently become enamored with the concept of paradoxes (or is it paradoxi?) , and thus i feel like shouting from this crude electronic mountain.
currently, I'm struggling with my own residual self image. for the past 9 years or so, my appearance hasn't changed much, other that a few beards here and there. in an ill-advised and irony/devil and Daniel Johnston inspired act of violence the other day, i changed what i look like. my mind's eye has yet to adapt, and for lack of a better term, its freaking me out. it feels as if I've stolen someone else body and discarded my own in a rubbish bin along the way. i do realized it will change eventually, but its incredibly painful to see something everyone else can no longer see.
a more pressing matter is my apparent lack of focus in this, what i though would be a brilliant, login essay on the state of the world since my last entry. however, to be honest nothing much has really changed. nothing thats still relevant anyway. love comes, love goes, new love comes, wash rinse and repeat.
the real skinny goes a little like this. boy takes trip to earn piece of mind, boy puts piece of mind on shelf and lives in parents basement, refuses to work and tries to be an artist. surprisingly no one tries to stop him this time. boy meets girl, boy meets girl, boy meets girl, boy meets girl. boy wondering is girls like him. boy guesses it doesn't matter because he'll be gone in a month. boy wonders if its shallow to pursue romance for such a short time. boy records extended player record. boy cuts of all his hair. boy is going back to the Yukon soon where things make the most sense to him.
posted by Jonathan at 7:19 PM
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