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fictionali'm off home tomorrow hopefully.
(that is assuming that my father gets himself out of bed and here to pick me up.)
i've had much to say these past few days, but not enough initiative.
i remember i wanted to talk about AI, and how it totally blew up my world.
it was a somewhat schizophrenic movie, i thought. but that seemed more unimportant the more i watched.
people, people are so cruel. i don't understand how it can be so.
i have the urge sometimes to rend and tear things.
i know what it feels like to want to hurt someone, some particular someone.
i know too how it feels to be consumed with rage and feel it well up over you, splashing over whoever happens to be nearest.
i remember moments when i wanted to annihilate the whole world.
but i don't think i have the capacity to actually do such things. ever. and i cannot even imagine it.
sometimes i feel like an anthropologist, stuck in a strange world, unable to understand the creatures around me in the slightest.
did i say anthropologist? maybe i meant alien.
and the towers. they were still there. all the stories about their removal were just myth.
i was so happy. i've always believed that stories exist in a sort of next-door universe, a place where What-Might-Have-Happened, and in many cases What-Should-Have-Happened live. and i was heartbroken at the thought that just because they were destroyed in this universe, we should for some reason pretend that they never existed in any other. that they never stood there like the gates to the City, and therefore to me, the gates to the world.
i hear they are doing a tribute to the buildings. towers of light shining into the sky, or some such. i will no doubt meander down to the promenade, fractured foot and all, and look. and possibly tear up. i cry at hallmark commercials, so perhaps i am more susceptible than i would like to be. i'll be glad to see the lights though, when i drive into the city tomorrow night. ever since it happened, every time, i look towards the South end of manhattan thinking, i know i used to be able to see them by now. they used to be here, i know it. but i could never remember exactly where they were supposed to be in my field of vision. now i suppose i will.
i wonder why i feel the need to apologize for what things mean to me.
why i worry so about how i am appearing to others. am i being passive-agressive? too much like that other one? too quiet, too loud, too cynical, too sentimental.
i've been reflecting much of late, and the fact that seems to keep rising and glaring at me is simple.
i'm so confused!
i think, like many people close to adolescence, i know the way things ought to be.
as i grow up a little, i think i even begin to know how they actually are.
but why? this i cannot seem to grok.
(that is assuming that my father gets himself out of bed and here to pick me up.)
i've had much to say these past few days, but not enough initiative.
i remember i wanted to talk about AI, and how it totally blew up my world.
it was a somewhat schizophrenic movie, i thought. but that seemed more unimportant the more i watched.
people, people are so cruel. i don't understand how it can be so.
i have the urge sometimes to rend and tear things.
i know what it feels like to want to hurt someone, some particular someone.
i know too how it feels to be consumed with rage and feel it well up over you, splashing over whoever happens to be nearest.
i remember moments when i wanted to annihilate the whole world.
but i don't think i have the capacity to actually do such things. ever. and i cannot even imagine it.
sometimes i feel like an anthropologist, stuck in a strange world, unable to understand the creatures around me in the slightest.
did i say anthropologist? maybe i meant alien.
and the towers. they were still there. all the stories about their removal were just myth.
i was so happy. i've always believed that stories exist in a sort of next-door universe, a place where What-Might-Have-Happened, and in many cases What-Should-Have-Happened live. and i was heartbroken at the thought that just because they were destroyed in this universe, we should for some reason pretend that they never existed in any other. that they never stood there like the gates to the City, and therefore to me, the gates to the world.
i hear they are doing a tribute to the buildings. towers of light shining into the sky, or some such. i will no doubt meander down to the promenade, fractured foot and all, and look. and possibly tear up. i cry at hallmark commercials, so perhaps i am more susceptible than i would like to be. i'll be glad to see the lights though, when i drive into the city tomorrow night. ever since it happened, every time, i look towards the South end of manhattan thinking, i know i used to be able to see them by now. they used to be here, i know it. but i could never remember exactly where they were supposed to be in my field of vision. now i suppose i will.
i wonder why i feel the need to apologize for what things mean to me.
why i worry so about how i am appearing to others. am i being passive-agressive? too much like that other one? too quiet, too loud, too cynical, too sentimental.
i've been reflecting much of late, and the fact that seems to keep rising and glaring at me is simple.
i'm so confused!
i think, like many people close to adolescence, i know the way things ought to be.
as i grow up a little, i think i even begin to know how they actually are.
but why? this i cannot seem to grok.
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A formal request.
Date: 2002-03-15 09:25 am (UTC)