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Faced with the unutterable, words still disintigrate...
And ever new, out of the most quivering stones, music builds her divine house in useless space.
-Rilke
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I am moody.
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[I am not very good at html]
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sometimes i wish... [a blog]
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Friday, September 13, 2002
Mewithoutyou is amazing.
anyway, things are going well. i have little to rant about lately. thus the lack of recent content in my blog. sorry guys. er, wait, does anyone even read this anymore? I haven't bothered to check. no one tags. no one votes. no one emails me. i am alone in a vast cyberuniverse. "i'm not the only one dying..."
Kerouac is a lovely poet. not in the beautiful Rilke way at all, but in a stream of consciousness, beautiful, rhythmic way. It's kind of bad for me to read him I think. It brings out the worst kind of passion in me. A rebellious heart even. I don't like that. I don't. That's why I love/hate Ginsberg so much. He has a way of expressing my worst states of mind perfectly. Something I can relate to intimately, but not something I want to relive. Therefore, I am ambivalent towards the old Beat movement. It is an at home feel, but I don't know if I should feel at home. I am not at home. I will be at home. soon.
soon.
11:25 AM
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