shhh...

*from achewood online comic strip

Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami: Thoughts part 1

In this book he explores alot of hotel imagery. Hotels are places full of mystery and tales. Hundreds of closed doors. Empty hallways. Murakami describes hotel patrons as "shadows creeping along the walls of the corridors". The old Dolphin Hotel was a doomed place described as "A freak accident of nature that stranded some organism up the wrong path without a way back. No one to blame, no one to save it."



The mystery is the best part of this book. Like H.P. Lovecraft, the less that is revealed the deeper the fear and deeper the intrigue. A great momentum is kept up for awhile, where the more clues are the revealed the less you know but you still care and want to find out more. Like when X-Files was good, or the first 2 seasons of Lost.

"I am left wondering how the ancient Egyptians filled their days, what little pleasures they enjoyed as they whiled their weary way to death. Learning to swim, wrapping mummies. And the sum accomplishment of that you call a civilization" For some reason I think this except is especially thought provoking when considering he wrote this from a Japanese perspective. The title character later speculates if there were trendy Egyptians.

I can really relate to this thought "I don't know what i want. And, if thats the case, as my ex-wife said, I'd only hurt people." An ex of mine told me something really similar and it really got my thinking for a long time about my actions.

Murakami writes himself into the book as the 13 year old girl's father. Its a strange and daring choice, and I'm unsure how I feel about it. He writes himself in a really self-depricating way and i don't think thats a very interesting point to make. Though I am always trying to be self-depricating as humor as well as a way to reveal in an acceptable way characteristics I don't like abot myself.

The storyline that sticks the most for me is the main characters (a 40 or older Male) friendship with a 13 year-old girl. Its really strange how the author creates an almost sexual tension between them. Thier relationship reminds me of alot of my past romantic relationships. I was always the more uptight, "sensible" one. I refer to it as more "white". I definately admire a more laid-back attitude. I admire those who can enjoy themselves and at least hide their self-consiousness more than me. Be able to stroll and be carefree. I guess I can do that half the time. The other half I'm a spazz. Like the main character. I suppose most people can relate to feeling emotionally trapped in a bottle and being help down by the rules of society. Thats probably why that person is usually the eyes the stories are told through in modern society.

Omaha Party Treadmilling

Passing time. Saving for goals. Vague goals of a different life. A different sort of life with a different sort of happiness. Something less desperate. Less imidiate. Something content. Constructive. Slower.

A happiness achieved slower.

Weekends full of the same places, different people. Different places, same people. Altered social situations but it all blends together. Everything clinging with such desperation to the hopelessness of these few blocks. Like a baby in a womb convincing its self there is no future.

Corners of omaha i'll never know. Streets with so many memories that i can't even look at them. Thoughts that make me try to disappear or at least dissolve back into the present.

There is so much to be discovered in life. So wasteful to tread over the same paths over and over. Paths so well worn there is barely any sustance left at all. There is so much i have yet to experiance. Though we all are the same organism on the same planet and tend to form similar social structures, its refreshing to change your surroundings.

Change helps let go of fear and ego. Helps you to see things differently. From a different perspective. I fear change. Fear of losing myself. Fear of revealing myself as weak. Fear of having to justify my existance without the approval of others. Fear of being unable to cope once out of my womb.

Fear of goals. Fear of caring. Fear of investing myself in something. Fear of discovering myself. These are what i am battling now. Will i be bored with myself if i don't see myself in certain surroundings. will i be bored with a sober mind? is there a place for me somewhere? for the real me? for a constructive, positive me? who i am? am i so shaped by my surroundings that i have no substance? what will emerge if i change my surroundings? Goals for ones self assume alot of things. can i accomplish what i want? are my goals influenced by a belief that i cannot achieve much?

allowing myself to flow organically, largely without goals, has shown me great joys and deep sorrows, but i long for the slow happiness. i feel as if now i'm beginning to reach a balance and discovering the life i want to live and the morals, values and priorities i want to hold myself to.

for a true heart

Untitled

we spewed out ourselves to each other
on barstools and long walks at night
tryed to learn from each others sadness
NO not learn
NO not cure
just share
share the sadness of our self-imposed apocalypse
faces red and beaming, reveling in it

one thing i unforgivably, selfishly never told you
you didn't need to be a tragedy
i should have told you that

Currently on a Hiatus of self discovery, an attempt of sorts (yeah one of those) and found some old poems that describe some feelings I have about it.

Untitled

Oh I wander from room to room like a ghost
knocking all the fine china over as I pass through
Its like pulling teeth to get food in my mouth
the stuff touching my lips and falling right out
Now all I can do is blur my mind
with those things, so kind
Confuse me just enough
to forget why I started

Untitled

its easy to forget
that to go against the waves
is to rebel against the whole ocean of your body
even brisk air betrays me now
hurts my lungs, revealing them to be shriveled
lay in bed with legs too heavy to lift
muscles twitch, unable to animate anything
fat oatmeal flesh, sagging, pale, dusty and blue
overwhelms my violin string tendons
reduced to a frightened, confused child
unable to fight this mythological gravity
at least for tonight

Katt Williams

I'm really into this guy right now. This skit describes how most actual people feel in modern society but nobody is representing them.

Commerce

I don't believe there is anything inherently wrong with commerce. Just imagine a world where dynamic people were creating dynamic products for people-of-a-like-mind to appreciate a purchase. I went to Crossroads Mall today to get a hip hat for my cold, peach-fuzz-buzzed head and it was abandoned, with the exception of the 57 year-old, grey haired, black security guard telling the Arab watch salesmen about the harsh wind outside. Empty store fronts checkered by obsolete stores, without a soul to market to, except me I suppose.

The whole economy is failing but I don't notice it down here. I was in La Buevette today and it was packed with cheery people chatting and alive. Target and Old Navy and Radioshack were all sad and confused when I wondered in. It only took a few steps in, until I realized... whatever I realized. That these places held nothing to fulfill the my needs. Only excess, and bland excess at that. Uninspired. Filtered a thousand times through focus groups and round tables. Reaching for youth. For an idea. Life. Blood. Failing horribly. Embarrassment. That's what I felt when I went into these established chains. Embarrassed for them at how badly they had failed and how lost they seemed. Not sad. The culture I love is thriving and always will thrive. Just another example of how any industry will always fail to capture the youth and DIY they chase in vain. Maybe they aren't failing. Maybe the mall further uptown is thriving. Maybe I just don't understand their goals. I suppose that's fine.