Sometimes I like to look around a classroom and try to guess how many of us are heavily drugged. I like the idea of a great mass of artificially normalised people, who can only function when they are in perfect chemical balance. It makes me feel like a scientific creation, with wires for brains and a petri dish instead of a heart. I really do not think I can write this final. If I was a robot, I wonder if I would run on batteries or be solar-powered.
Archive for December, 2006
Been too busy to think about writing lately, other than the 60-some pages I’ve had to write for finals. I’ll be entertaining soon; in the meantime, Naomi, don’t stop posting whatever you want. I didn’t mean to censor yourself. This is your site too; if you have something to write, write it.
So Nathan remarked that my recent posts have been a little emo. And he is right. I apologize.
I guess if you don’t have anything uplifting to say, you should keep your thoughts to yourself and not drag other people down into your sad and bitter world. I’ve been low on creativity lately, but I don’t believe in not working just because you’re out of ideas. Even though I’m busy with finals, I’m forcing myself to write for about an hour each day. I think if you don’t maintain your practice daily, your work loses its focus and becomes dull and weak. You lose confidence and it shows. So anyway, if I come up with anything interesting I’ll post it here, otherwise I’ll try to keep quiet until I have something nice to say.
Our ‘pedia who art in wiki,
Hallowed be thy search.
Thy pov be neut,
Thy edits bear fruit,
In en. as they do in fr.
Give us this day our featured art,
And protect us from vandals,
At least in our favorite articles,
Though we vandalize others.
For thine is the reference and
The hype for ever and ever.
Amen.
If I had the choice to be beautiful, I think I’d rather be invisible. There’s something really horrible about being looked at. I think beautiful people must suffer tremendously all the time. Beautiful people are constantly being corroded by other people’s eyes, the skin probably prickles and burns from the toxicity of the gaze. I’m sure it’s like being a fossil scraped out of dirt with a tiny polished pick. I think if I were a fossil I’d rather not be exposed to light and air. I’d rather keep my secrets hardened to myself.
Everyone always tries to be more beautiful. I think this is a very serious mistake. It would be better if people tried to be more invisible. Everyone would be safer from each other, and there would be fewer accidental deaths.
In a world that usually lets me down, the certainty that I will always fail is something I’ve come to depend on. I’ve developed a tremendous faith in my inabilities. When all of life’s questions overwhelm me in the dead of night, I don’t need to wonder what the future holds for me. I have the peace that comes with the knowledge that no matter what happens, I will probably get it wrong anyway. And it’s a really good feeling. I highly recommend it, actually, as a lifestyle choice. Once you decide to be a failure, it’s amazing how everything crystallizes. It’s easier to make decisions, too, when you can be sure of the outcome.
If anyone actually reads this, let me know.
Note from Nathan: Comments might be broken. Email west(at)invisiblebirds(dot)com if you tried to post but can’t.
I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve just been broken up with and haven’t had the courage to write much these days, or do much at all. I sit in my chair by the window. I’m turning into Eli, which is disheartening. That’s what happens when you work on the same material for 2 years. Your process becomes more and more insular and circular until you realise that you are not writing a character, you are writing your own existence on a parallel plane, and you and your character exist as empty mirrors for each other. When one of you suffers the other one laughs, nervously, and then goes back to thinking about blood in lungs or old banisters or whatever it is that old men think about when they are trying not to be a twenty year old woman who is in denial of the fact that she is secretly a dying old man.
I’m not looking forward, but I refuse to look back.
Two of my current papers involve space/time. Moreso than normal. When I figure it out, I will update.
We need to create invisible birds.
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