Journal Entries
Above
Posted Jun 22, 2003
I wrote something. But it was too good to give to the BBC. Night.
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Latest reply: Jun 22, 2003
Above
Posted Jun 22, 2003
I wrote something. But it was too good to give to the BBC. Night.
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: Jun 22, 2003
Click
Posted Jun 21, 2003
I look around a busy high street, see all the different people buying all sorts of different things, see the homeless people selling the big issue, see the shopping centre evangelists inviting you to their place for Sunday breakfast and one question rises in my mind...why? Personally, I subscribe to evolution...we were primordial slime, we were monkeys, we are humans...all that our minds are is a byproduct of the stage our bodies have reached. This makes all of our systems of morals, our motivations, all of our thoughts as meaningful as a gust of wind. All we have is what we, as a species, have concocted. One big distraction we use to stop us realising we and the things we imbue with so much importance means nothing. You can either disagree with this, or agree and take one of two paths.
1) Treat this realisation as a crushing weight upon your shoulders.
2) Treat this realisation as liberation, nothing really matters so we are free to explore the reality we inhabit without fear.
This realisation can be a key to happiness, or a precursor to suicide. Still not quite sure what it is to me.
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Latest reply: Jun 21, 2003
Changes
Posted Jun 20, 2003
If life does nothing else, it changes. Sometimes so seamlessly you can't tell a change even took place until you look back on it. My life has felt a lot like this since my mid teens. I still get flashes of it from then, a sudden "how can this be happening im only 14 years old?" feeling. Things feel unreal; the trappings of adulthood...I have a flat, a fiancee, a dead dad, a mental illness...all these things should be in the future, far away from the protected insular life that the core of myself still seems to want to live. This is not to say that I feel this way all of the time, nor that I want what I have to go away. Some things I have now I couldn't easily part with, I'm just curious as to when my mental core and my mental extremeties will be reconciled. Perhaps never...growing up may have as many meanings as there are people on Earth, which makes it hard to know if you're doing it right.
I have a strange feeling im on the brink of some kind of epiphany. Perhaps thats all it is, perhaps not.
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Latest reply: Jun 20, 2003
Non-Writers Block
Posted Jun 19, 2003
I can't write. Well, thats not entirely true obviously, I can write this...my thoughts my feelings but anything more than that (is there anything more than that? discuss) i find impossible. I want to be able to write fiction, want to be able to construct worlds and things more interesting than this tawdry existence we share. But I can't. I have no inspiration, no ideas and no talent. I look at the stuff I like...Murakami, Eddings, Marquez, Mitchell...and its just impossible. I feel like a dry well....drop the bucket and theres nothing there, except maybe the odd grains of sand.
Maybe I should try to cook instead?
(and before its mentioned, yes, i have self pity pretty much mastered). Although if my mood swings nicely maybe you'll see another side of me. If there still is one.
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Latest reply: Jun 19, 2003
The End Of The World
Researcher U231801
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