(no subject)
"It takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. People who remember court madness through pain, the pain of the perpetually recurring death of their innocence; people who forget court another kind of madness, the madness of the denial of pain and the hatred of innocence; and the world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare."
~James Baldwin, Giovanni's Room
I often wonder what kind of madman I am. I don't want to think that my need to be constantly paranoid is a recurring haunting, like listening to hours of the Jenny Jones show. But, also, being paranoid is an awesome way to categorize. You have all your little worries bundled together, like logs for the fire, and you can shovel one on when it's appropriate. Park your car in a different place, draw that thing in your sketchbook, count down the days until you have to pay this or do that or see this person or be this friend or sleep this long or eat this much, all catalogued from a series of misfortunes and mistakes.
Fueled by mistakes, like an IV of motor oil. It's discouraging, but get a flat tire or lock your keys in your car and suddenly you finish everything. We all have to wear our stupid shit like a new sweater or go naked until the laundry's done. And, sometimes, people don't want to see our naked bodies.
Some people have all the luck of being madmen too ignorant to be fueled by their mistakes, still playing in the sandbox.
All while listening to Iron & Wine's cover of "Such Great Heights".
P.S. I loves James Baldwin.
~James Baldwin, Giovanni's Room
I often wonder what kind of madman I am. I don't want to think that my need to be constantly paranoid is a recurring haunting, like listening to hours of the Jenny Jones show. But, also, being paranoid is an awesome way to categorize. You have all your little worries bundled together, like logs for the fire, and you can shovel one on when it's appropriate. Park your car in a different place, draw that thing in your sketchbook, count down the days until you have to pay this or do that or see this person or be this friend or sleep this long or eat this much, all catalogued from a series of misfortunes and mistakes.
Fueled by mistakes, like an IV of motor oil. It's discouraging, but get a flat tire or lock your keys in your car and suddenly you finish everything. We all have to wear our stupid shit like a new sweater or go naked until the laundry's done. And, sometimes, people don't want to see our naked bodies.
Some people have all the luck of being madmen too ignorant to be fueled by their mistakes, still playing in the sandbox.
All while listening to Iron & Wine's cover of "Such Great Heights".
P.S. I loves James Baldwin.