(no subject)
This is just a note. I'm hoping that returning to my live journal will reinvigorate my writing life, which right now is about as exciting as my sex life.
I've been walking around my usual 2,000 sq ft, I've been treading my usual path to and from school, re-reading my favorite books, not worrying about college, inventing nothing, becoming comfortable in my relationships--It is nothing. I am waiting and passionless.
Ok here's the note part:
I have no second or forth hour; I'm taking regular government, but planning on taking the AP Test; I'm at home reading the Barron's Gov book; To avoid learning I turn on the television--and it's Spirit Stallion of the Shimmeron, I think that's the title-
-And I just start crying, crying in steady little intervals. Thinking about the West, unpredictability, freedom. What is this silly? Spirit. It seemed real, these animated men of the confederate army, I didn't feel a separation from history, just a mutual wonder at existence in general. Yes, the movie followed conventions, there was silliness in the plot, but I just felt a great honesty and wonder coming at me from my television. It provided a really workable image for me to press my own ideas and emotions onto--not to diminish the importance of the absolutely magnificent day outside, and my odd choice to stay inside, telling myself I'd venture out soon.
* * *
God this was a day. Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey. I kept thinking of the poem, the exuberance, as Nick and I walked into a pet shop tonight--Creatures pawing at the glass, I walk my 2,000 sq ft, they walk their 2. Is there anything left to life when you take away Nature and The Prospect of Love, can that much really be said for The Imagination.
Summing up: A Wordsworth Poem, My own ambivalence, Beautiful Day, Hamster Wheel (treadmill parallels) Spirit--The West--Such Crying.
I've been walking around my usual 2,000 sq ft, I've been treading my usual path to and from school, re-reading my favorite books, not worrying about college, inventing nothing, becoming comfortable in my relationships--It is nothing. I am waiting and passionless.
Ok here's the note part:
I have no second or forth hour; I'm taking regular government, but planning on taking the AP Test; I'm at home reading the Barron's Gov book; To avoid learning I turn on the television--and it's Spirit Stallion of the Shimmeron, I think that's the title-
-And I just start crying, crying in steady little intervals. Thinking about the West, unpredictability, freedom. What is this silly? Spirit. It seemed real, these animated men of the confederate army, I didn't feel a separation from history, just a mutual wonder at existence in general. Yes, the movie followed conventions, there was silliness in the plot, but I just felt a great honesty and wonder coming at me from my television. It provided a really workable image for me to press my own ideas and emotions onto--not to diminish the importance of the absolutely magnificent day outside, and my odd choice to stay inside, telling myself I'd venture out soon.
* * *
God this was a day. Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey. I kept thinking of the poem, the exuberance, as Nick and I walked into a pet shop tonight--Creatures pawing at the glass, I walk my 2,000 sq ft, they walk their 2. Is there anything left to life when you take away Nature and The Prospect of Love, can that much really be said for The Imagination.
Summing up: A Wordsworth Poem, My own ambivalence, Beautiful Day, Hamster Wheel (treadmill parallels) Spirit--The West--Such Crying.