| |
| november 2005 |
|
| The Theme | 3:21am monday, 28th november |
I think that night is when the sky closes its eyes and dreams,
the same, recurring theme, of a million fires, and infinity —
to awake so full of light when its eyes of dawn peer open.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (8) so far. |
|
| Memory X | 2:31am monday, 21st november |
That was probably where I hit rock bottom. I recall that I was allowed to leave that rehab center only on weekends, and before I returned, my aunt bought me a box of fried chicken, several bowls of instant ramen, and various breads. I remember that they wouldn’t let me bring coffee in anymore, after I had stayed up all night a couple times, and missed the morning medicine calls because I was dead asleep. And so, there was this one guy who traded me packets of coffee for bread — it wasn’t a particularly fair trade, one cream-filled bun per packet, but I wasn’t complaining. I was there so long, and there are things that happened there that I don’t feel like sharing right now. And I don’t know why I think about it, maybe as contrast — things are for the most part at a high point, except perhaps on the female companionship front. It doesn’t seem as far away as like the time before all the madness happened. Makes me appreciate that old saying, “There but for the grace of God go I.” Prince and pauper are not separated by that much a gulf.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (0) so far. |
|
| Time, Reduced | 3:30am thursday, 17th november |
Time destroys it all,
even the heartbreaks, but then,
raises up new intricacies.
And I wonder at this thing called change,
whether, as some would hold,
it is merely illusion
overtop that which is eternally steady —
or if it is the hinge upon
everything, the necessity to all existence:
and that nothing stays,
all of it in constant transformation.
And Wilde said that
the mystery of love is greater
than the mystery of death, but
how does the mystery of time figure?
Often to let the first go,
and on inevitably toward the second,
I think I know better
what will be my end than how I get there.
Time, too, is final,
for its reversal can never be,
time, the co-conspirator
to our greatest extrapolations,
our smallest trivialities:
perhaps it is less than even death, though,
for it is no visceral thing,
for the most part, a dalliance
into the metaphysical,
and we think of it not so much
except when it pours out to the last,
and slips from us with all our days —
friend better to the Reaper
than even in our beginning ever was to us.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (2) so far. |
|
| Personals | 10:45am sunday, 13th november |
So, my personal life has come down to that I have been going on a lot of blind dates. The story goes like this: my name, my real name, is a rare one in Korea, and I am the eldest son of the eldest son of the eldest son, etc., all the way back to the first man who had this name. So therefore, it is of utmost importance for the continuance of this name of mine that I have a son to pass it down for the next generation. And when I hit 30, the parents started asking about when it was going to be that I was planning to get married. And every year, this kind of talk has gotten worse. Now, every single conversation I have with my mom is punctuated with asking me if I have found a woman yet, and how they’re getting old, and when am I going to get married so that they can hold their grandchildren before they die. So, my parents and my aunt (whom I live with currently here in Seoul) have been setting me up time and again. And again.
That’s not even all of it. A few weeks ago, my dad signed me up with a Catholic dating service. Yes, all Catholic, all the time. It was freaking expensive, too, like $500 (of which I had the privilege of paying $100 of it). And I guess they really want to earn their money, because they sent me the number of some Catholic chick after like 2 days, though I wasn’t able to go out with her until much later because of that bad cold I had. And then, they called one day and actually gave me 2 numbers. I called one, and was going to call the other one after the date with that first one, but got a call that the second one was complaining why wasn’t I calling her? So, man. I have had 2 dates in 2 days, having just come back from one like an hour ago. And all this time, I’m thinking, stop — please stop. The problem, it might be, is that my parents are looking for marriage, and I am looking for love. And I think that the intersection of these two things is a small sliver indeed. Sigh. That’s how the cookie’s crumbling.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (5) so far. |
|
| Night Falls 5 | 5:16am wednesday, 9th november |
Night falls, and the darkness swallows up sound, as if the sky itself were louder in the light.
Night falls, and it is day which is the curtain that is swept aside, to reveal the vast outside.
Night falls, and I imagine the sky becomes one wide well of ink, in which I might dip and write prophecies.
Night falls, and the stars know me better than the sun, who do not blind me if I gaze upon them.
Night falls, and I wonder what it would be like if the dawn never came, and everything stayed hidden.
Night falls, and I think I am not more alone than in the day, but that the solitude stands out more.
Night falls, and I imagine I can see farther than the sky is deep, like the movie said, beyond infinity.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (2) so far. |
|
| And Again, Love | 5:44am saturday, 5th november |
The more I look for meaning, the more it comes down to love. And I think it is no mistake that the worth of this life is so accessible, that anyone may achieve the highest that life has to offer — truly, the best of all living is in love. There is achievement and accomplishment, and I know I have had my share of success, and have tasted that particular of sweetnesses — and yes, there is meaning there, too, I will admit. I imagine some of rarefied airs that exist in the heights of attainment, that they must be heady indeed, if I might extrapolate of the modest elevations I have experienced. And love, it is so common a thing, really; but I must think that I would rather have someone who really loves me over any Nobel Prize. Because it is so everywhere, we may take it for granted, but I think that only speaks to the goodness of our creator. It saves us, and more. The meaning of life is love: it always has been, and it always will be. People only keep asking what it might be because they have so little idea what love is. But ask the man who has no questions of life: I will show you someone who loves someone.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (7) so far. |
|
| Bloom | 5:21am tuesday, 1st november |
A dream begins to wake, a soft bloom within the sunrise.
That which approaches lets not itself known just why it approaches,
and surely, no one will ask of any wonder why it is.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (0) so far. |
|
| ^ Top of Page | |
|
