Thursday, October 31, 2013

Now I Don't Even Bother



Laura, are you still living there
On your estate of sorrow?
You used to leave it occasionally
But now you don't even bother
To ride that commuter train, west to Chicago


I used to leave it occasionally, but now I don't even bother to ride that commuter train to Cluj. To set foot into the darkness of a movie theater. Vicarious living as an addiction. Vicarious living as the only known way of living. All those other bodies, all those feelings, all those different paths and possibilities - "their beauty carved out of absolutes you could never claim or even envision."

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Still Alive Here

- bday selfie -

Those self-effacing, vanishing-act tendencies - like weeds spreading all over this little space here.

Sometimes I think I should start sending telegrams (or postcards) to people saying "I AM STILL ALIVE" - like On Kawara. There's no one to send them to, though. There are also the daily tweets. That could work for me. Just send them out into the big black nothingness of the Internet.

*

Earlier this week I've finished reading this book recommended by Natasha Khan, Women Who Run with the Wolves, each page feeling like a slap. With a few tiny exceptions (like the excerpt below) that I can't help but find comforting. Maybe, just maybe, I'm not so far off from the path towards whatever it is that I'm looking for.
To return to an alert innocence is not so much an effort, like moving a pile of bricks from here to there, as it is standing still long enough to let the spirit find you. It is said that all that you are seeking is also seeking you, that if you lie still, sit still, it will find you. It has been waiting for you a long time. Once it is here, don't move away. Rest. See what happens next.

This echoeing "You've Got Time," Regina Spektor's theme song for Orange Is the New Black:
Taking steps is easy
Standing still is hard
I'm definitely mastering the standing-still part. I just don't think I can kill the "too-good mother."

Keep thinking that I wouldn't mind becoming Baba Yaga. The old hag living alone in the woods. But there's no becoming Baba Yaga without wisdom, and I haven't got an ounce of that.

*

Things I used to get so excited about leave me mostly indifferent now. It worries me. Maybe some books. Maybe a song here and there. Maybe a movie or two. No new or returning tv series. Just Buffy. Ohmygosh, re:watching Buffy feels so good. And Cluj? Till a couple of days ago I kept canceling my plans for Cluj. Not even MMH's new book could get me there. Not even the social agitation I've been dreaming of since I was a kid. I know exactly how long it's been in between the last time I went out back in summer and this recent train trip to CJ, and it scares me that this amount of time doesn't scare me.

*

I've been trying to get into my own time zone but I can't manage to stay there for more than three days or so. I just start gravitating towards Japanese time again and again. And for a little while, staying up all night reading yaoi manga felt so right. But most nights, the air here is so heavy and I'm suffocating. I know I've said I enjoy re:watching Buffy - and that's because this show is even better than I thought it was. At the same time: it's also very painful to watch. In Why Buffy Matters, Rhonda Wilcox explains the role of light in this show, and I just burst into tears when I read that part because I realized why I avoid the light of day. It has nothing to do with the matters of the soul. No, nothing so deep. The light vs. the darkness of the soul - that's for heroes, that's for people with a purpose, that's for people with Scooby Gangs. No, nothing so deep for this eternal teenager.

(And can we please discuss about Buffy being the Wild Woman - as described in Women Who Run with the Wolves? The many layers of this show have me in constant awe.)

*

When I watched Terry Zwigoff's Crumb, I saw my future self in Crumb's brother who had nothing else to show for his life than a few piles of books, read and re:read. At that time, a tiny part of myself rejected that prediction: no, I won't let it go that far. And yet here I am, letting it go that far.

*

Pretty much everything I read / see / listen to sounds so chastising.

Though this world's essentially
An absurd place to be living in
It doesn't call for bubble withdrawal


And yet I know "bubble withdrawal" / standing still can be okay. It can be okay if you do the work. But if you don't do the work, of course you'll feel useless and unworthy and start dreaming of rats.