frame by frame
help me learn to write
it is not so much that i want to write for the outside to have access to my ideas, thoughts and opinions. In the structure of being, memory and self i have created for me, the self is connected completely and intricately to conversations; those that make use of speech, text and the mute internal musings. Thought being transient fade into oblivion as soon as they pass me, coming again sometime, if at all. With these ephemral conversationsthe self dissolves, loosing itself to the mysteries of memory. To be alive and 'me' only for this moment is not to be human, is to be denied choice and chance. It kills any hopes of the future, and leaves no space in time for a history of me.
In the struggle to remember, to catalouge convesations and thus preserve a link to me, i recede from the real. The present, my moment of existence, seems to me, lost in the haze of a 'battle for my past'. Loosing everything slowly, material and spiritual, and the little i understand, i live, frame by frame, hoping to create 'my life' in the analysis of the recordings of others. Frame by frame i am obliterated by the weight of the others, who grow step by step, understanding and doing.
The only hope is to proclaim of my existence to a future who will be me, to write. Save the moment, the moment itself and not the reflection of it in the eyes of the world around. In the gaze of truth that unifies the private with the public, the self is lost; being me is hidden under the need to imitate the image of me. And the words then have to flow not at the speed of thought, as that will cheat the writing of the animation of being. The tension between the words and thought, the space in time between the two liable for the beauty in the text. The struggle of words to engage completely the flow of thought or vice versa captures existence as it is, with its struggle and dialectic, the confusion, chance and plurality is what defines being. The motifs underlayed in the composition of existence emerge in this strife, generating an history, a legacy for the future that hopefully will be me.
it is not so much that i want to write for the outside to have access to my ideas, thoughts and opinions. In the structure of being, memory and self i have created for me, the self is connected completely and intricately to conversations; those that make use of speech, text and the mute internal musings. Thought being transient fade into oblivion as soon as they pass me, coming again sometime, if at all. With these ephemral conversationsthe self dissolves, loosing itself to the mysteries of memory. To be alive and 'me' only for this moment is not to be human, is to be denied choice and chance. It kills any hopes of the future, and leaves no space in time for a history of me.
In the struggle to remember, to catalouge convesations and thus preserve a link to me, i recede from the real. The present, my moment of existence, seems to me, lost in the haze of a 'battle for my past'. Loosing everything slowly, material and spiritual, and the little i understand, i live, frame by frame, hoping to create 'my life' in the analysis of the recordings of others. Frame by frame i am obliterated by the weight of the others, who grow step by step, understanding and doing.
The only hope is to proclaim of my existence to a future who will be me, to write. Save the moment, the moment itself and not the reflection of it in the eyes of the world around. In the gaze of truth that unifies the private with the public, the self is lost; being me is hidden under the need to imitate the image of me. And the words then have to flow not at the speed of thought, as that will cheat the writing of the animation of being. The tension between the words and thought, the space in time between the two liable for the beauty in the text. The struggle of words to engage completely the flow of thought or vice versa captures existence as it is, with its struggle and dialectic, the confusion, chance and plurality is what defines being. The motifs underlayed in the composition of existence emerge in this strife, generating an history, a legacy for the future that hopefully will be me.
posted by lev at 4:03 AM
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