Memory is a 6th sense...the art of articulating artificial artificats
Shavuah Tov friends.
The house is once again bustling with company (i have proposed that we permanently remove the front door)... relatives (an eclectic menage of real cousins, almost cousins, sortofcousins, and third cousins four times removed) from remote regions of the world (although @times even Eastern Parkway seems exeedingly distant) knocking at the door (Heaven's or our current lack thereof) at all hours of night and day (or is day and then night?) loaded with pictures, gossip and futurisitic thoughts (or the idealistic appearance of such things) in exchange for a comfortable chair, a piece of cake and a hot glass of tea (and most importantly an endless audience inclined to curiously listen)...
I've been reading furiously for the past 26 hours [in attempt to escape or to better comprehend??] so it may take me a while to resurface [i am not sure if that is reappear or appear]... into the world my mama refers to as 'reality'... so leave me be in my penetrations and battling for correct words...
some random purpose-less [or ful??] thoughts...
and the two book qoutes of the week [that replenish, restore, or revolutionize??]:
I am unsure as to why both are on the subject of love... perhaps it is due to the festivities of the weekend [in the relationship of my own microcosmic world and its larger macrocosmic community], or the fact that my home is flooded with exemplary examples of Lubavitchly affection.
"Women had said 'i love you' without his ever speaking. The more you love someone, he came to think, the harder it is to tell them. It surprised him that strangers didn't stop each other on the street to say 'I love you'..."
and the far greater one...
"'No," Grandfather said, "my ghosts are not there."
[you have ghosts?]
[of course i have ghosts.]
[what are your ghosts like?]
[they are on the insides of the lids of my eyes.]
[this is also where my ghosts reside.]
[You have ghosts???]
[Of course i have ghosts.]
[But you are a child!]
[I am not a child...]
[But you have not known love.]
[These are my ghosts, the spaces amid love.]
brilliant... what Dickinson called the 'heaves of storm'.
breath. G-d. air. life. wind. wisdom. clouds. soul. rain. art. storm= torrential downPOURS OF FUSION... THE PULSE OF SILENCE. THE VACUUM THAT CREATED CREATION
breath. MAN. air. G-d. life.... BIRTH- SPACE.
again. and again. and again.
to nothingness... to everythingness...
The house is once again bustling with company (i have proposed that we permanently remove the front door)... relatives (an eclectic menage of real cousins, almost cousins, sortofcousins, and third cousins four times removed) from remote regions of the world (although @times even Eastern Parkway seems exeedingly distant) knocking at the door (Heaven's or our current lack thereof) at all hours of night and day (or is day and then night?) loaded with pictures, gossip and futurisitic thoughts (or the idealistic appearance of such things) in exchange for a comfortable chair, a piece of cake and a hot glass of tea (and most importantly an endless audience inclined to curiously listen)...
I've been reading furiously for the past 26 hours [in attempt to escape or to better comprehend??] so it may take me a while to resurface [i am not sure if that is reappear or appear]... into the world my mama refers to as 'reality'... so leave me be in my penetrations and battling for correct words...
some random purpose-less [or ful??] thoughts...
and the two book qoutes of the week [that replenish, restore, or revolutionize??]:
I am unsure as to why both are on the subject of love... perhaps it is due to the festivities of the weekend [in the relationship of my own microcosmic world and its larger macrocosmic community], or the fact that my home is flooded with exemplary examples of Lubavitchly affection.
"Women had said 'i love you' without his ever speaking. The more you love someone, he came to think, the harder it is to tell them. It surprised him that strangers didn't stop each other on the street to say 'I love you'..."
and the far greater one...
"'No," Grandfather said, "my ghosts are not there."
[you have ghosts?]
[of course i have ghosts.]
[what are your ghosts like?]
[they are on the insides of the lids of my eyes.]
[this is also where my ghosts reside.]
[You have ghosts???]
[Of course i have ghosts.]
[But you are a child!]
[I am not a child...]
[But you have not known love.]
[These are my ghosts, the spaces amid love.]
brilliant... what Dickinson called the 'heaves of storm'.
breath. G-d. air. life. wind. wisdom. clouds. soul. rain. art. storm= torrential downPOURS OF FUSION... THE PULSE OF SILENCE. THE VACUUM THAT CREATED CREATION
breath. MAN. air. G-d. life.... BIRTH- SPACE.
again. and again. and again.
to nothingness... to everythingness...
posted by HindiK at 7:22 PM
5 Comments:
and yes-
i am mad for viggo mortensen AND kevin costner...
what can i say, i like old lived in men.
sorry honey.
;)
shame that i missed that martini tho'.
while i am posting on my own blog...still more and later.
you're right Wood Nymph [and could you believe i didn't even realize it]-
still-
i don't like to think that intellecutal copyright applies to blogging as well...
ideas are recycled. styles are copied [they should be flattered not insluted]
period.
besides,
i like to think of g-d as the original plagiarist...
man in who's image exactly?!
[awfully awful i know...i'm leavin' i'm leavin']
i like the qoutes...
and the fact that you write these huge cosmic phrases...
sometimes i wonder what are the mechanisms that move that brain of yours...
viggo mortensen is a good choice [i'm not digging hte kevin costner bit]- have you seen "A History of Voilence" yet??
enjoy the rest of thanksgiving break...oh and Hindi, can't wait to hear what on earth you are going to lecture about in Prof. Natov's class, anything to save us from her New Age bs...
Uh...can I just say, smells like Wiesel. How is it that I've read s'much as to recognize that? There's no such thing as chance when you've cleared yourself of probability dependencies...and here's me, thinking I thought life was short and for LivingItUp!
p.s. if I'm wrong, I'm still right that I know enough to make the guess.
Weisel
Foer
its a mish mash of brain matter.
by the way you don't want me to teach you how to be passionate-
right now i'm contemplating shaving my head from sheer boredom [from school, job and even the City].
is this why people get married???
i must get out of town.
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