Today's Discussion is...
Well it's safe to say that my southern history teacher hates e.. this is the second class I've skipped. but i'm going to have a discussion of my own, so it's okay.
My favorite book in the world, I think, at least at the moment, is IT, by Stephen King. It deals with the friends you make at 12... and the kind of person you are... how children act, and think, and are...
And I believe that the way they deal with things, the way that they love as fearlessly and recklessly as they would swing from a moldering rope into a stagnant pond full of who knows what, the way they feel things with all their hearts, without the inhibitions of shame or regret...
I believe that we should all live that way... I mean, there should be some inhibitions, based upon other people's feelings, and common courtesy, but mostly? There's not enough time.... no where near enough time to diminish who you are.
I love this preachy mother fucking journal. I hope, sincerely, no one really reads all of it... I mostly just put stuff up to work it out in my brain... there's no particular order up there, most thoughts just rampage about like separate sheets of the same thick newspaper caught up in a storm. I'll get to read random sentence fragments and see bits of pictures, but I like to be able to read the whole story, and to do that I have to write it down. It's why I have so much trouble discussing things anymore... I like to flit around my brain, chasing bits of paper.
ANYWAY, continuing, I think that IT maybe rivaled by Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes. But I've only read a few chapters, and it has already begun to discuss that type of friendship and the lost beauties of childhood that people are so ready to shake off, rushing to be "grownups." The way the grass smells when you're surrounded by it, letting an October wind usher your whole being into a reality of whimsy and danger, that sense of urgency that lies in the shadow of everyone's heel as they rush to some intangible destination in all quests... When the barber wells up at the thought of forgetting that he used to eat cotton candy, that he hadn't even smelled it in a long time... I thought of IT. I hope the day never comes when I forget these all important little things.
I wonder if it's the same when you realize you can't hear that high pitched scream that comes off the tv when it's on?
Anyway, the perfect concentration on this lesson in people is seemlessly imbedded in a tale that began as every tale should. On a night that promised a storm unlike any other, with two friends as un-alike as night and day, but soul-brothers always side by side in the reigns.
I can't wait to get farther, but I felt the need to write at least some of this down.
Later I'll try to work through that feeling of drowning I get sometimes.
I really take signs to heart. Certain songs that play, snippets of conversation I catch, events that get snagged by the reaching (logrus?) tentacles of my subconcious. Sometimes, when I'm having anxieties about something, I'll wish on clocks, or on dandelions, count thrice and spin, etc.
I don't stake my life on things like that, but... you know... just in case...
But then there are certain moments when I think "What if none of it's true. What if there's nothing binding us all together and we really are just living slabs of biological mess that die and... well... just... end?" It's like being pulled away by a rip tide... engulfed by waves, nothing but cold, salty, bitter nothing slowly drowning me in darkness, and no one can grab me.
Usually I can shake it off... because there's so much I believe that is illogical, so much around me that doesn't make sense... too many coincidences to think of them as such... for me to really believe that there is nothing everywhere. No magic? No soul? No God? Really?
In many instances... this seems entirely illogical.
But I'm rambling now, and not really taking the time to delve deeper... sometimes I become bashful towards the other people upstairs, as I have a whole party of disagreeing (and some disagreeable) people up there, so I tend to skate over what I really mean, leaving most things for givens that really aren't... much gets unsaid so really, it's just a waste of time.
Besides I hafta meet Sam! We're going to a Bright Eyes Concert today... fucking sweet. But if he doesn't sing "First Day of my Life" or "Poison Oak" I'll just cry a thousand tears. And then enjoy the rest of the concert.
Peace and Love, As Always,
Laura, The Little Sparrow
My favorite book in the world, I think, at least at the moment, is IT, by Stephen King. It deals with the friends you make at 12... and the kind of person you are... how children act, and think, and are...
And I believe that the way they deal with things, the way that they love as fearlessly and recklessly as they would swing from a moldering rope into a stagnant pond full of who knows what, the way they feel things with all their hearts, without the inhibitions of shame or regret...
I believe that we should all live that way... I mean, there should be some inhibitions, based upon other people's feelings, and common courtesy, but mostly? There's not enough time.... no where near enough time to diminish who you are.
I love this preachy mother fucking journal. I hope, sincerely, no one really reads all of it... I mostly just put stuff up to work it out in my brain... there's no particular order up there, most thoughts just rampage about like separate sheets of the same thick newspaper caught up in a storm. I'll get to read random sentence fragments and see bits of pictures, but I like to be able to read the whole story, and to do that I have to write it down. It's why I have so much trouble discussing things anymore... I like to flit around my brain, chasing bits of paper.
ANYWAY, continuing, I think that IT maybe rivaled by Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes. But I've only read a few chapters, and it has already begun to discuss that type of friendship and the lost beauties of childhood that people are so ready to shake off, rushing to be "grownups." The way the grass smells when you're surrounded by it, letting an October wind usher your whole being into a reality of whimsy and danger, that sense of urgency that lies in the shadow of everyone's heel as they rush to some intangible destination in all quests... When the barber wells up at the thought of forgetting that he used to eat cotton candy, that he hadn't even smelled it in a long time... I thought of IT. I hope the day never comes when I forget these all important little things.
I wonder if it's the same when you realize you can't hear that high pitched scream that comes off the tv when it's on?
Anyway, the perfect concentration on this lesson in people is seemlessly imbedded in a tale that began as every tale should. On a night that promised a storm unlike any other, with two friends as un-alike as night and day, but soul-brothers always side by side in the reigns.
I can't wait to get farther, but I felt the need to write at least some of this down.
Later I'll try to work through that feeling of drowning I get sometimes.
I really take signs to heart. Certain songs that play, snippets of conversation I catch, events that get snagged by the reaching (logrus?) tentacles of my subconcious. Sometimes, when I'm having anxieties about something, I'll wish on clocks, or on dandelions, count thrice and spin, etc.
I don't stake my life on things like that, but... you know... just in case...
But then there are certain moments when I think "What if none of it's true. What if there's nothing binding us all together and we really are just living slabs of biological mess that die and... well... just... end?" It's like being pulled away by a rip tide... engulfed by waves, nothing but cold, salty, bitter nothing slowly drowning me in darkness, and no one can grab me.
Usually I can shake it off... because there's so much I believe that is illogical, so much around me that doesn't make sense... too many coincidences to think of them as such... for me to really believe that there is nothing everywhere. No magic? No soul? No God? Really?
In many instances... this seems entirely illogical.
But I'm rambling now, and not really taking the time to delve deeper... sometimes I become bashful towards the other people upstairs, as I have a whole party of disagreeing (and some disagreeable) people up there, so I tend to skate over what I really mean, leaving most things for givens that really aren't... much gets unsaid so really, it's just a waste of time.
Besides I hafta meet Sam! We're going to a Bright Eyes Concert today... fucking sweet. But if he doesn't sing "First Day of my Life" or "Poison Oak" I'll just cry a thousand tears. And then enjoy the rest of the concert.
Peace and Love, As Always,
Laura, The Little Sparrow