"Jack off all trades, mastur... oh, fuckget it"
I am wondering what it is that brings me back to this site. I've definitely missed being a contributing member, missed the reading of others' blogs, missed the piercing clarity that typing a few words here and there brings to my day-to-day mental opacity. But mostly I've missed the puns. The blog has this marvelous way of feeling like you can refine your own little pocket of reality, and that all consent is tacitly granted by its accessability. You can create this -cosm of the absurd, populate it with the demented, and then somehow use that to counterpoint REAL life. A blog's like a jester to the king. Otherwise, what is it? A failed attempt at a 1:1 ratio of your feelings and all of its dust-motes? The throbbing forehead vein of vermicular emotion? One of the websites you return to in order to reinforce and revalidate what you already know? A performance-art of self-revelation? Very very, I'd say.
Montreal's got me down these 6 months passed. Like some sort of mental inversion, wherein I strengthen the same neural pathways just by walking the same streets. I've felt a victim of perfidy, of self-sabotage, of my own emotional reactivity (obscuring my lassitude and resignation). No specifity needed: I don't want to be trapped by myself any longer. I'm sure we all feel that way (hence the perception of perfidy). So I don't believe in comfortable change anymore (linked to and confused by the implicit human tendency toward self-destructive behaviour). Nor do I believe that we have to 'understand' everything anymore either, at least, not in order to make a decision.
I definitely want to stay firmly within the mists of mystery. Just a really really mysterious mystery. One that helps me forgo my cognitive prejudices and brings me back to the details.
Oh yeah, and boobcheese, prostatic analglyphs and bumbarnacles, just to meet the day's rude-word quota. Let's get real, we both come here for that.