I read some rather diverse blogs, not just the ones on the right there (read them enough to link them so there!) But there are a few which remain anonymous for my own sake, I don't know why, I haven't quite figured out why I keep them anonymous, I just know I do. Why's take more time to discover.
I'm listening to Flamenco Sketches right now (and if anyone out there knows the song and can suggest more of the same mood, let me know, will be indebted to you and will buy you beer or something). And I have this image in my head, black and white, trench coat, the annoying rain and looking in to a window there beside the fire escape stairs). I see in and see the lives of people...no, I see lives I won't live: the prostitute, the crack addict, the rape victim who writes about her sexual misadventures, the frat boy who drinks incessantly, the social butterfly...the list is endless. I guess it's more than voyeurism. It's vicariousness of going over the edge of the Abyss. It's not a feeling of seeing someone braver than I doing something heroic I wouldn't have the balls to do, there is no judgment except fascination at other lives. Some of them resonate, others just throw my own into sharp relief.
My life is nothing like that of the stripper or of the mother who is bringing up her child, it's my life. For better or for worse, it's mine without the judgment.
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You step in to the changing room with mirrors on either side, you stretching in to an infinity. How would you react if one of those images stretched its arm out?
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I would like to think that everyone goes through the desire to change the world or their own country in some way for the better. Of those dreams, how many materialize? Wouldn't the country be better run if instead of schmucks who have nothing better to do stopped entering politics and the idealists did?
Anyway, my dream job would be to be an independent contractor advising the government on projects. I have no idea if such a job exists. I would like to be paid to oversee projects like the railways or how to improve airports in India or .... or just take a gun and without reprisal with regards murder, shoot some of the bastards that seem to hold so much power.
I hate politics. The power/intellect balance which should be present seems non existent. Let's go back to the idea of philosopher kings Plato, everything else seems to be falling apart (and leave the eugenics out of it!)
I really wish I could...I never thought of myself as patriotic but when you call a place home, you want to keep it clean. So, I wish I could work for the government but in a job where I could say, look, this is my job, i will take care of it and i will do it well, beyond that, let me be please.
(sigh)
I'm jaded, cynical and loathing, but somewhere inside there's the optimist. But then again, we all need something to keep us going. And I hope he never disappears.
7 comments:
Nice, the black and white imagery! It visits me often. (Sin Cityish-kind?)
i sometimes wish the hand WOULD stretch out and let me know i'm not really crazy. this need for identification we have, this someone-please-acknowledge-me-so-i-am-aware-i'm-alive, it's sad. but human.
I'd jump out of my skin and begin gibbering like an idiot...it always freaks me out, because I think if i stare hard enough, one of the reflections will wink back
Exactly...and once in a while when walking around in the rain, pass by one of those classic NY cordoned off gardens, the private ones and peer through the vines and it feels just like that
I passed by one of those today on the way back from work.
And thought of your post.
Nice.
Yeah well, those things are stunning when you are inside, nothing ostentatious or out of the ordinary, just beautifully kept and it's rather like the Secret Garden
i know which garden you're talking about. if i was still in the bubble i would have taken you on that fabled 8 hr journey some of us undertook by foot. the countryside is gorgeous and the only danger we met on our route wwas when we ambled into a golf course!
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