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danne |
Monday, January 07, 2008
physical reassurance •
".. which (just to be provocative) we propose to call Epistemic Romanticism. One central idea of 19th century Romanticism was that our real selves, the essence of our identity, is implanted within us, and that to discover who we really are we but need let that real identity emerge. Epistemic.."truth be told, that's what i miss, i think. unfortunately i find myself in quite a cut up state of mind, as the distressed leather of my now-empty wallet. i don't know why i care about these things, precisely, but i do know that i'd decided to care and still do, somehow. whether i want to is another thing entirely and a question i'd rather not examine, for fear that i'd stop. it's a number of things that are hard to talk about, and it's early in the morning, my current source of distress is KI IS, but the blinding pressure that was reaching childhood-recurring-nightmare-that-wakes-me-up-covered-in-sweat standards started lessening a while ago when i began rereading gen's article. thank you, flap of a butterly's wings. of late i just haven't been able to think.. philosophically. i've only been able to act.. provisionally, and then only barely. my thoughts are a mess, they have as much direction as zero length vectors. i find myself silent more often than not, more often than usual. the belief i ascribe is that i'm burnt out of energy, so what if it's a state of mind. the belief is in fact that i'm afraid of acting, because i don't know, beause you seem so contradictory. in other words, yes, i have arisen, awoken. yawn. nobody likes a mopey kid. real men cry streams of blood, and then some, blah etc basically you can only romanticize for so long, and then you have to slap yourself(assuming, as it is, that there's noone to save you the trouble and slap you first) and try to go on living. please don't come to me and tell me, hey, glad you're feeling better. i'm glad that you're glad, i truly am, but the blade is still in the wound in a number of cases. now the healing can begin, i said. i'd said it for that one thing, that one thing only. and now i would even have doubts about that. in other words, i still feel and always will. for you and you and you, and things that need catching up and building and dreaming but wait- are you too tired, too afraid too? or maybe it's my imagination and you basically don't give a damn, as i'm being convinced it is. i'll put down my ego someday and take the risk myself and ask, but as for now we've got no choice but to continue walking our own ways. straight as the frisbee flies isn't very straight at all, and eventually the disk will connect with the dirt, if it isn't caught by someone first. here's to hoping one of us will reach out and catch. 3:24 am |