|
.old. .new. .guestbook. .notes. .email.
.profile. .diaryland. .song. .story. .things. .records. .rings. .site. I've really taken a hit. 2005-01-28 1:26 am I've been obsessing over eating disordered, depressed, indie-esque musicians lately [read: Conor Oberst, Craig Nichols, NickyandRichey]. I don't know if it's because I've tired of the bullshit this world vomits at me every time I turn around. I'm not even cynical by nature. I'm just afraid of lies. They're like popcorn oil, or something sweet that tastes good until you have too much of it and the butter runs down your forehead like you're sweating fat. Just like I crave carrots and celery and mandarin oranges I crave honesty, intensity, something to touch. When I hear a word that I know is naked of motive it's like the clouds are clearing away. Some celebrity trips up their words and the media calls it a crime; I call it a blast of the vent over your head in an airplane. Redundant. So much of it. Formality, for kicks, frosting on an otherwise fine tasting cake... I'm just now seeing this in me, that my minimalism comes from my thirst for truth, that I hate small talking to strangers because nothing that comes out of my mouth is really real. My head has taken over. My brain gets in the way. And when I tackle something difficult I resort to whatever comes first: thoughts, knowledge, comfort in patterms. Nothing is difficult for me except emotion. I expound all day on theorems and cower in fear when someone offers a kiss. I'm better friends with Heidegger than anyone in school. I feel incomplete but I can't take that next step because it's the only place in the world I always feel stupid.
|