1. I feel light-headed and smokey. I crave nothing but the warm hand of another on my belly. I feel unbearabley old and weary, yet young and nieve. I am too thin. I am snug in my lethargy. Time whirls on and I feel lost in its abruptness. I cannot contemplate existence outside myself. My moods change as frequently as I change CDs.
To exist outside one's body is to be perfect, as one defies existence. The dead are not perfect. Even the unborn child is not perfect. Neither can defy their existance.
Birth stole my purity.
2. I often have an odd feeling that I am not living the life I was meant to live. That I am somehow trapped in the wrong destiny. My head is filled with romantic visions. I have an urge to recreate myself. I feel too ordinary and not quite complete.
Perhaps I am too theatrical or idealistic. I wish to live my life as a beautiful novel with dark and profound speeches, long nights filled with the haze of smoke and pale limbs, huge old houses in which one could wander moodily through.
Sometimes I am amazed that I exist at all. That I somehow exist as a seperate entity, that I may move among my surrounndings with no outside interference, that I may exist whilst millions exist without ever encountering my existence, or I, theirs; it is incomprehensible. Often as I glance in the mirror, I seem detached from my surrounndings, a floating mass in nothingness. I am confused by my existence.
3. Dylan - where would I be without him. I grew up listening to Bob Dylan. My parents are ex-hippies, and he was always there throughout my childhood, but it is the long road trips that have stayed at the forefront of my mind. Lying back against the car seat, face pressed against the cold glass watching the moonlit trees picked up by the glare of the headlights, I was introduced to both the lyrics and the atmosphere of the music. Sarah, Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands, Queen Jane Approximately, Visions of Johanna, It's Not Me Babe. Perhaps at five years of age I didn't understand the lyrics of these songs, but I knew what Dylan was expressing through his music; and this has always stayed with me.
4. It seems that my life is spent waiting for the day when everything will be 'right'. Like Anais Nin's Djeuna, I have spent my life preparing for a grande love, thereby missing potential advances. Once I thought that the day had arrived, but three days later I realised I had been mistaken and that this wasn't what I had been preparing for after all. Generally I am happy I guess. Yet I have strange spells where I am aware of the infinate stretch of time before me, and I grow weary. Seventy-five percent of my life I am hardly alive, operating on auto-piolet, waiting for something new to happen in the hope that the new time may hold some interest. |
