Time-taker-uppers keep keeping me down. The weeks are like a maze with no exit signs and hardly any landmarks. I've written myself a few notes on my arms. Keep writing. Don't skip classes. Don't be too late for work. Don't eat too much junk food. Don't make that jump. Keep waiting. Keep wading. We'll see where they get me.
The hockey season's started, which means I'm going to be spending way too much time caring about it. I guess all my cares are disproportionately important, though. The stupid facebook messages to no one, the attempts at decent comebacks (in French and in English), how to get yellow to stay on top of black. Whether anyone notices a grey ghost with his grey goose shuffle, day in day out. And let's not forget the endless perfectionism in the artistic medium of plastic bags and the food that's making its slow walk towards becoming shit in so many toilets all over the downtown area. So we go on, the new HNIC anthem extolling our virtues in lieu of a eulogy. Galvanised.
I wonder if beauty ever means anything, in the end. I wonder what processes lead people from being babies to being babies. I wonder at how I can be so serious, so unserious, so quick to retort and so thick-skinned, all at once. I wonder how deep the needle will have to go when I finish the semester and finally start Ulysses and finally finish it and finally get its cogs and screws and nuts and bolts tattooed all over my stupid body. I wonder about capstones, about headstones, about stone henges, and stone heads. I wonder, like Character, what I'll be like in my thirties (Ed.'s note: Notice here his life is imitating his writing, and not vice-versa. A sign of times changed? Or just a crippling addiction to binaries and paradoxes? Who knows.) Who will be left to read out my eulogy to a quiet church half-full of faces untearstained? Who will be left to collapse, nauseous, at the wake, wondering about what might've been?
I guess the solution is to not die. Thanks, Alexander.
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2 comments:
Well, you know I'll always be happy to ask the tough questions in life, such as:
When is a door not a door?
p.s. don't hesitate to let me know if it's incredibly annoying to have all these comments on your blog. there might be some symptoms of withdrawal, but i swear i can stop.
p.p.s. i just set myself up with that one, didn't i? you take it.
it's not really. before this place became a wasteland (as you may or may not know, depending on if you read all the way to the end or not [i don't remember]) people did comment on it more or less regularly. so no, it doesn't annoy me. i take great care to pretend i'm writing for myself alone when i make posts, though.
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