i suppose the graffiti of nostalgia will remain. oh god.... i sound like the local clerisy, quoting themselves for posterity, fleeting as it may be.
like anyone cares.
someone at work mused today about the "point" of a blog. i mused about the viscosity of their "soul"; see also: "synapse" and "functionality of...".
it's not so much that i want people to read this, it's the off chance that somebody MIGHT read this, and "they" MAY feel some sort of "connection" to what i'm gisting, because my words fail me many, many times.
strange. if i could talk in shapes (dodecahedrons, perhaps) it may be easier for others to act like i'm human. essentially, however, i am alone- not in the universe- but in my mind. i feel like alice.
soren kierkegaard said- "if i do not express the universal, no one can understand me." (from Fear and Trembling)
i like that idea, that there is a continuity in it all. not only am i Po-Mo, i'm existential!
(that bit about the po-mo was a joke)
it's important to find the albatross.
i make wings out of feeling. i make love to the world with my eyes. and i have loved you- one thousand sunsets over, and still i would be never nearer to the trueness of your lips...
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