aint it lovely aint it lovely lovely lovelylovely
ice ice baby
texas is officially getting more winter action than the northeast could ever hope to get.
when do friends stop being friends? when should one stop even trying?
i found myself in a walmart at 2 am. i wondered what i was doing there. then i bought a snickers bar. recently i seem to have found myself in a lot of places and with a lot of people that made me wonder what the fuck i was doing. last night i felt like nobody spoke my language. they all babbled in some foreign tongue and i just tried to laugh when it seemed like time for the punchline. it was as i was eating the snickers bar that i realized why i left this place and why i dont ever want to return for this long ever again.
ive recently rediscovered my love for electronica sounds. been listenin to boards of canada and black moth super rainbow and caribou and matmos. the first two capture something that i can't seem to attach to certain existing signifiers. which brings me to my decision to probably go to grad school to study linguistics. that is, of course, assuming that i do not actually burn out at the end of my tenure at BU. i've always thought spontaneously combusting would be my favorite way to die.
the past three months have left my mind a blank slate. i would like to begin again please. like michael finnegan. he grew fat and then grew thin again. i'm not sure whether i want to be metaphorically fat or thin, but i want to reconfigure and start from scratch. i guess life is just a series of deaths and eventual new beginnings. just like poor old michael finnegan. after growing fat and thin again he died and had to begin again. begin again and again and again and again...til you find something that wont die? or that you dont want to die, anyway. well, but after you find that then you really die.
all this talk about death has reminded me of a poem i recently came across by joe brainard:
Death is a funny thing. Most people are afraid of it, and yet they don't even know what it is.
Perhaps we can clear this up.
What is death?
Death is it. That's it. Finished. "Finito." Over and out. No more.
Death is many different things to many different people. I think it is safe to say, however, that most people don't like it.
Why?
Because they are afraid of it.
Why are they afraid of it?
Because they don't understand it.
I think that the best way to try to understand death is to think about it a lot. Try to come to terms with it. Try to really understand it. Give it a chance!
Sometimes it helps if we try to visualize things.
Try to visualize, for example, someone sneaking up behind your back and hitting you over the head with a giant hammer.
Some people prefer to think of death as a more spiritual thing. Where the soul somehow separates itself from the mess and goes on living forever somewhere else. Heaven and hell being the most traditional choices.
Death has a very black reputation but, actually, to die is a perfectly normal thing to do.
And it's so wholesome: being a very important part of nature's big picture. Trees die don't they? And flowers?
I think it's always nice to know that you are not alone. Even in death.
Let's think about ants for a minute. Millions of ants die every day, and do we care? No. And I'm sure that ants feel the same way about us.
But suppose--just suppose--that we didn't have to die. That wouldn't be so great either. If a 90 year old man can hardly stand up, can you imagine what it would be like to be 500 years old?
Another comforting thought about death is that 80 years or so after you die nobody who knew you will still be alive to miss you.
And after you're dead, you won't even know it.
oh yeah, i'm also quitting livejournal. see you bitches on the flip side.
texas is officially getting more winter action than the northeast could ever hope to get.
when do friends stop being friends? when should one stop even trying?
i found myself in a walmart at 2 am. i wondered what i was doing there. then i bought a snickers bar. recently i seem to have found myself in a lot of places and with a lot of people that made me wonder what the fuck i was doing. last night i felt like nobody spoke my language. they all babbled in some foreign tongue and i just tried to laugh when it seemed like time for the punchline. it was as i was eating the snickers bar that i realized why i left this place and why i dont ever want to return for this long ever again.
ive recently rediscovered my love for electronica sounds. been listenin to boards of canada and black moth super rainbow and caribou and matmos. the first two capture something that i can't seem to attach to certain existing signifiers. which brings me to my decision to probably go to grad school to study linguistics. that is, of course, assuming that i do not actually burn out at the end of my tenure at BU. i've always thought spontaneously combusting would be my favorite way to die.
the past three months have left my mind a blank slate. i would like to begin again please. like michael finnegan. he grew fat and then grew thin again. i'm not sure whether i want to be metaphorically fat or thin, but i want to reconfigure and start from scratch. i guess life is just a series of deaths and eventual new beginnings. just like poor old michael finnegan. after growing fat and thin again he died and had to begin again. begin again and again and again and again...til you find something that wont die? or that you dont want to die, anyway. well, but after you find that then you really die.
all this talk about death has reminded me of a poem i recently came across by joe brainard:
Death is a funny thing. Most people are afraid of it, and yet they don't even know what it is.
Perhaps we can clear this up.
What is death?
Death is it. That's it. Finished. "Finito." Over and out. No more.
Death is many different things to many different people. I think it is safe to say, however, that most people don't like it.
Why?
Because they are afraid of it.
Why are they afraid of it?
Because they don't understand it.
I think that the best way to try to understand death is to think about it a lot. Try to come to terms with it. Try to really understand it. Give it a chance!
Sometimes it helps if we try to visualize things.
Try to visualize, for example, someone sneaking up behind your back and hitting you over the head with a giant hammer.
Some people prefer to think of death as a more spiritual thing. Where the soul somehow separates itself from the mess and goes on living forever somewhere else. Heaven and hell being the most traditional choices.
Death has a very black reputation but, actually, to die is a perfectly normal thing to do.
And it's so wholesome: being a very important part of nature's big picture. Trees die don't they? And flowers?
I think it's always nice to know that you are not alone. Even in death.
Let's think about ants for a minute. Millions of ants die every day, and do we care? No. And I'm sure that ants feel the same way about us.
But suppose--just suppose--that we didn't have to die. That wouldn't be so great either. If a 90 year old man can hardly stand up, can you imagine what it would be like to be 500 years old?
Another comforting thought about death is that 80 years or so after you die nobody who knew you will still be alive to miss you.
And after you're dead, you won't even know it.
oh yeah, i'm also quitting livejournal. see you bitches on the flip side.