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| october 2005 |
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| Been Sick | 6:11pm friday, 28th october |
I have been pretty sick with a really bad cold this last week, so here is a picture to look at.
Strawberry asked me for a picture of Seoul, and I took this one last year, the entrance to the subway I take all the time. It seemed to make her happy, so I thought maybe it would make others of you happy.
You can click on this to get a larger version. (And I don't know when the funky behavior of this site will improve, by the by. Just keep trying if you can't seem to connect. Sigh.)
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| This Is Just to Say | 1:15am monday, 24th october |
I threw away those pictures
we took that time
we went to that place,
you remember
when we were so
very happy
and thought nothing
about tomorrow
I’m sorry if you
wanted them,
but they were tattered
and I could not save them
(forgive me, William Carlos Williams)
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| Working... | 12:38am thursday, 20th october |
What have I been doing? I have been working on things. I have been wondering about meaning, and truth. I really have. If not to quantify them (for I know not what that kind of train of cogitation might entail), to clarify these modes of transport for our hopes, and plans, and dreams. To work with them as one who delves in information systems might think he is obligated to do, if he had the facilities. And perhaps I may. I wonder at how the same words, set in different contexts, could have no effect at all, or hit one like a ton of bricks, could save, or cause the destruction of. I have this idea (not a new one, but original enough the way I approach it) that everything is information — all matter, all energy. That causation is merely the exchange of information. But the metaphysics, and the physics, is not so much to my predisposition as this virtual matrix we have created within the electric dream of computers. And I am making progress. I really am. It is, at the worst, like a torture — but never quite that bad. And it is, at its best, like magic — but better.
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| Everything | 5:51am sunday, 16th october |
There are moments when I let myself forget about everything. Become not mindful of the world. Other times, I am so very tired. I feel almost as if I were Atlas, supporting the weight of the whole world, the air itself pressing down upon me — but I know it is only my world, and that given some other light, they would prove of illusory gravity. In moments of clarity, I think, it has not been a dream, after all, that I have lived all these wayward years — though some were less wayward than others. But the years, too, press down upon me, that I have experienced so much, so much that never happened, and I must make sense of that which by nature will not ever yield to any logic at all. I know, on the other of the hands, that for everything that has happened, that I have been given great gifts, and that where so much has been given, much therefore is expected in return. That, perhaps, is the weightiest of all, because that is not some figment that I may disregard, a genuine precious stone whose mass is directly proportional to how much it is worth.
But still, there are, for a few seconds at a time, maybe longer at rare instances, times when all the weight of a thousand worlds lifts from my back and shoulders, when my head itself is floating on a cloud. And it is not really a forgetting, for some of the thoughts drift through my consciousness, even then, of responsibilities, of my past, of my future: but somehow, it is as if their substance is transformed from solid to gas, from earth to air, from matter to space. Perhaps the comprehension, at these times, is the most correct: these are the things I have truly desired that weigh on me greatest, and this process by which such gravities influence my actions is what is meant to be — and I would have it no other way, if ever I would be in a right mind to decide such things. And then those moments pass, and I am back into the realm of earth and density, forgetting my forgetting... except to remind myself to hope: that I am meant for something in this world, which I would give up everything for, and which that is not asked of me in achieving it.
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| Huddle | 2:04am wednesday, 12th october |
There is fire enough only to see those closest to us;
out beyond its glow is it so very cold and solitary —
yet we go, boldly to spark new tinder, huddle new faces.
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| That Was Fun... | 5:48pm saturday, 8th october |
Well, that was fun, wasn’t it? I hope everything finds all you dear readers well. It turns out that technically, the hosting company where I have this site run from didn’t actually shut down, but sort of changed hands. The same person whom I email for support is going to manage all these sites from another backbone. In any case, the DNS servers were really screwed for a long while, there, which was why H13.com was not resolving to the right location, so this site was not functional. I got tired of waiting, so I switched it over myself to a different host, but the database that holds all the real data for the site was still in my old host’s machine. So that was why I put up the “My Story” page as the home page. (Yes, I do back up, but not after every post! I decided I’d rather wait and see if I could get everything back instead of starting from somewhere back a couple months.) But anyway, things should be stable again. That’s life, and all that. Did you miss me?
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