My OperaLike fabulous yellow roman candles exploding
Tuesday, November 25, 2008 10:27:24 PM
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars...
- Jack Kerouac
This is my favorite moment, when I sit alone in the dark looking at my computer screen, listening to the clock ticking every second. There never seem to be enough time during the day, but at times like this I just realized how slowly time passes.
The scars on my wrist are still visible, and one of my fingers slightly bleeds where his nail has just been some hours ago. I bet he didn't thought it was that bad. If you saw me now with that and black eye-liners and didn't know the whole story, you'd think that I'm emo - which may be not completely inaccurate. I like certain kinds of pain. Once I watched a dancer dancing, with her bare feet badly injured, as if it was one of Lizst's craziest melody that she was dancing to. Her eyes were wild, and so were her movements. She laughed. Her laughter echoed. At that moment she was the truest thing in existence; and I knew it because I knew it was painful. I'd give anything just to feel it. To dance like she did. To laugh like she did. To suffer like she did. To love like she did when she kneed down and rested by the body of the person whose name she had soundlessly shouted out in her laughter while looking up at the gray sky. It's one unreal thing that's so much more real than many other things on Earth.
Or, there is a writer whom I knew very well. She liked to write from the second person point of view. I wanted to be like her, because I could only write as "I". Everything else sounded fake. I couldn't even write with third person narrator. Once, she told me when asked: "To write about 'you', you have to start with 'you'. Ask a question. This question."
I wrote as 'you' and spoke as 'you'. I also became so interested in that question which she advised me to ask that I made several videos about people I know answering it. I had a record of what everyone said. If you were asked and filmed by me at some point, you'll be asked and filmed again when I next see you. If I haven't done that to you, you might very well be the next. But don't think too hard about what you have to say - it just doesn't work that way.
Many people asked me back the exact same thing. I believe that I said a slightly different thing each time, but I often went with "I don't know." If that's what I gave you, then I'm ready to give you a new answer because now I have one. What's the answer? Ask me. You haven't asked me yet. And you should ask me twice, probably thrice, or even more, because I would still give you different answers. You just cannot imagine how trivial they are. I know I confused lots of you as the question was raised, but did you know I'm the one who's been most troubled by it?
I just went through all the videos that I had, and some of them are just really amazing. What's more amazing is that I know these people personally, and I'm still seeking to know more and more of such people - those that remind you of no other, the first of their types you could have met. People who would take off all of their clothes and dance together under the moonlight for the whole night. People who laugh even after their throats burn, their eyes blind, their hair ripped, their muscles sore. People who look down on standards and would make love to any other who has a passion that's great enough.
No, you can't really see all of that from my videos. But I know it because I know them. Or, for some of you, because I know you.
These people wouldn't ask me what I want in my life, because they know that the only true form of wanting is to want everything and to give everything. They wouldn't ask me how much I liked what I was doing, because they knew we either did something with passion or didn't do it. They wouldn't ask about my nationality because we just don't see the concept of countries and nationalities (and they're familiar with this because we have discussed this several times). They would never question the worthwhileness of something, however trivial and unimportant it seemed in other's eyes. They would never tell me "I don't think you need to do this" or "It's not as important as this other thing" or "What about money?" or "What about your life?" These people are always dancing their ways through life, in pain, with their chins up, and laughing wildly at the pains as well as the eyes watching them. They burn, burn, burn.
These eyes - they don't understand. They thought they had everything to be better than these crazy dancing people, but they couldn't be more wrong.
- Jack Kerouac
This is my favorite moment, when I sit alone in the dark looking at my computer screen, listening to the clock ticking every second. There never seem to be enough time during the day, but at times like this I just realized how slowly time passes.
The scars on my wrist are still visible, and one of my fingers slightly bleeds where his nail has just been some hours ago. I bet he didn't thought it was that bad. If you saw me now with that and black eye-liners and didn't know the whole story, you'd think that I'm emo - which may be not completely inaccurate. I like certain kinds of pain. Once I watched a dancer dancing, with her bare feet badly injured, as if it was one of Lizst's craziest melody that she was dancing to. Her eyes were wild, and so were her movements. She laughed. Her laughter echoed. At that moment she was the truest thing in existence; and I knew it because I knew it was painful. I'd give anything just to feel it. To dance like she did. To laugh like she did. To suffer like she did. To love like she did when she kneed down and rested by the body of the person whose name she had soundlessly shouted out in her laughter while looking up at the gray sky. It's one unreal thing that's so much more real than many other things on Earth.
Or, there is a writer whom I knew very well. She liked to write from the second person point of view. I wanted to be like her, because I could only write as "I". Everything else sounded fake. I couldn't even write with third person narrator. Once, she told me when asked: "To write about 'you', you have to start with 'you'. Ask a question. This question."
I wrote as 'you' and spoke as 'you'. I also became so interested in that question which she advised me to ask that I made several videos about people I know answering it. I had a record of what everyone said. If you were asked and filmed by me at some point, you'll be asked and filmed again when I next see you. If I haven't done that to you, you might very well be the next. But don't think too hard about what you have to say - it just doesn't work that way.
Many people asked me back the exact same thing. I believe that I said a slightly different thing each time, but I often went with "I don't know." If that's what I gave you, then I'm ready to give you a new answer because now I have one. What's the answer? Ask me. You haven't asked me yet. And you should ask me twice, probably thrice, or even more, because I would still give you different answers. You just cannot imagine how trivial they are. I know I confused lots of you as the question was raised, but did you know I'm the one who's been most troubled by it?
I just went through all the videos that I had, and some of them are just really amazing. What's more amazing is that I know these people personally, and I'm still seeking to know more and more of such people - those that remind you of no other, the first of their types you could have met. People who would take off all of their clothes and dance together under the moonlight for the whole night. People who laugh even after their throats burn, their eyes blind, their hair ripped, their muscles sore. People who look down on standards and would make love to any other who has a passion that's great enough.
No, you can't really see all of that from my videos. But I know it because I know them. Or, for some of you, because I know you.
These people wouldn't ask me what I want in my life, because they know that the only true form of wanting is to want everything and to give everything. They wouldn't ask me how much I liked what I was doing, because they knew we either did something with passion or didn't do it. They wouldn't ask about my nationality because we just don't see the concept of countries and nationalities (and they're familiar with this because we have discussed this several times). They would never question the worthwhileness of something, however trivial and unimportant it seemed in other's eyes. They would never tell me "I don't think you need to do this" or "It's not as important as this other thing" or "What about money?" or "What about your life?" These people are always dancing their ways through life, in pain, with their chins up, and laughing wildly at the pains as well as the eyes watching them. They burn, burn, burn.
These eyes - they don't understand. They thought they had everything to be better than these crazy dancing people, but they couldn't be more wrong.
