The confusion of words
There's something strange, something static and confining, about writing - when compared to life... I mean, when you write something, when someone creates a discourse, a world is created, a picture or set of pictures. The thing is that this is not the world itself (let's say, the world of action); it's something else, some kind of atmosphere or set of principles or instructions that hangs over you or beneath you or whatever. It means it's really difficult, I think, to learn or be enlightened by alot of writing.
I've read alot more than I've lived - like most people I guess - and some words and sentences have hung over me greatly. But it seems like alot of that has just been chasing ghosts... for instance, I would read say Kerouac, who should be one of the least monolithic of writers, and he might describe an exciting, deep discussion between two crazy beats - and I would think oh my god I want to have a conversation like that! The secrets of the world are contained within such conversation! People who talk like that would get girls like THAT, man! But, later, you realise you have had conversations like that, and that what you felt during them was nothing like what you felt when you read about them. The same is true of descriptions of sex, people, nature, beauty, etcccc... all images, worlds that are strange paper creations compared with actual experience. Paper creations that hold you back, imprison you; for you're looking for something, chasing this image, when in fact all that's needed is a simple decision, a few words, an action, for life itself to dawn upon you and evolve; for you to step into the cool breeze of the present and realise that this is different entirely from what you thought it would be.
There are about a million things that seem to relate to this, like modern theories of simulacra, the sign and signifier, etc etc... it's also probably what the guy who wrote the Watchword to the City of London below was talking about. But anyway, I guess words are still necessary; if we didnt have ghosts to chase, would we get anywhere at all? Is there anywhere to get to, or do we just need to move?
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'Realitea' - regular tea
'Specialitea' - herbal/hippie tea
Pronounced in a slightly zoned out way for maximum effect.
A triviality, for you!
I've read alot more than I've lived - like most people I guess - and some words and sentences have hung over me greatly. But it seems like alot of that has just been chasing ghosts... for instance, I would read say Kerouac, who should be one of the least monolithic of writers, and he might describe an exciting, deep discussion between two crazy beats - and I would think oh my god I want to have a conversation like that! The secrets of the world are contained within such conversation! People who talk like that would get girls like THAT, man! But, later, you realise you have had conversations like that, and that what you felt during them was nothing like what you felt when you read about them. The same is true of descriptions of sex, people, nature, beauty, etcccc... all images, worlds that are strange paper creations compared with actual experience. Paper creations that hold you back, imprison you; for you're looking for something, chasing this image, when in fact all that's needed is a simple decision, a few words, an action, for life itself to dawn upon you and evolve; for you to step into the cool breeze of the present and realise that this is different entirely from what you thought it would be.
There are about a million things that seem to relate to this, like modern theories of simulacra, the sign and signifier, etc etc... it's also probably what the guy who wrote the Watchword to the City of London below was talking about. But anyway, I guess words are still necessary; if we didnt have ghosts to chase, would we get anywhere at all? Is there anywhere to get to, or do we just need to move?
----
'Realitea' - regular tea
'Specialitea' - herbal/hippie tea
Pronounced in a slightly zoned out way for maximum effect.
A triviality, for you!