silversolitaire: (hmmm)
Every time I'm taking the train, I amuse myself with reading the graffiti at the walls while I wait. Maybe it's the anthropologist in me that enjoys things like that. For the longest time, there's been this big spray-on at the opposite side of the platform. It said "a witty remark" and it always made me smile. I was blogging about it in my head, every time I saw it, thinking how I'd say "Someone sprayed a witty remark on the wall, literally!" and it made me smile even more. One day I actually blogged about it, but I guess nobody else found it as funny as I did.

Every time I saw this graffiti I promised myself I'd take a photo of it. Just... to keep. I thought someone needs to document this. Keep this for posterity. Last week I actually had a camera with me, but because of circumstances beyond my control I didn't really have the time to snap a picture before I got on the train. Then, when I got home it was dark and I was tired and I just didn't think about it anymore.

This week, I return to the waiting booth and I'm staring at a large plain surface. Someone has painted over all the graffiti. It doesn't really improve the attractiveness of this place as it's grey and dull. All the funny little remarks, the small signs of people who've waited here just like me, are gone. Of course the witty remark is gone as well. I'm struck with an immense feeling of loss.

As I'm waiting for the train, my eyes brush past the now decomposing carcass of the cat. Of course nobody has bothered to remove it from the tracks. My heart aches again as I think that this could be my cat... lost, missed, forgotten. I wish someone would get on those tracks and remove it. I wouldn't want to touch it, of course. But someone else should.

Behind me, someone has shattered a glass bottle on the ground. Brown shards poke up like jagged mountain ridges. For a brief moment I wonder what would happen if I stepped on those. Would they cut through my soles, into my flesh, making me hurt and bleed? The thought seems strangely appealing now, leaving a track of blood as I walk so I could never get lost. A bit like a bizarro version of Hansel and Gretel. My foot hovers above a shard, but I never put it down.

I get lost in thoughts some more and keep waiting for the train. Then it arrives and I take a step back. I hear the crunch of the glass under my shoes as I step into the pile of shards. Nothing happens. I get on the train.
silversolitaire: (Default)
I really do love this ad...

Australian Mayfly by Vodafone

"Maybe there's a lesson in this for us longer living creatures. Just think, if we embraced life like the mayfly, what a life that would be."

More about it.
silversolitaire: (Default)
Enough of the pursuit of pleasure,
Enough of wealth and righteous deeds!

In the dark forest of the world
What peace of mind can they bring you?
-Ashtavakra Gita 10:7

* * *

Say, "Humankind! The Truth has come to you from
your Lord. He that follows it for the good of his own
soul, and whosoever goes astray does so to his own
detriment. I am not a warder over you."
-Qur'an, Yunus, Surah 10:108

* * *

Security is not the absence of danger, but the
presence of God, no matter what the danger.
- Anonymous
silversolitaire: (Default)
Since yesterday I am the proud owner of the Norton Anthology of English Literature, Volume Two. I find it hard to describe the feelings I had when I opened it for the first time. I'm feeling so silly about it, but it's all real.

You must first try to imagine the dimensions of this book. It's easily 4 inches thick and must weigh around 60 ounches. It's got 2963 pages which are so thin that you can hardly touch them. This is how it looks:



When I opened it and heard the gentle rustle of the pages, I felt love. As silly as it may sound, but I did. I felt like this book contains everything I love and if I only knew a 10th of what's written in there, I could die a happy woman. I almost got wet eyes. I held it close to my face and took a deep breath, smelling the scent of eternal wisdom. I gently leafed through the book, afraid the break the delicate pages, in complete awe aboutthe enormous information packed into these pages. Whole books are in there! Endless varieties of poets, informations, listings... There are no words. I think, if I was to take only one book with me when I had to go to jail, or whatever, this would be it.

When I touch those thin pages, I feel like all my friends were sitting together at one table and we were laughing and joking, having a great time. There's Byron, smiling at Shelley and lifting his glass of wine with a nod. On the other side is Coleridge, involved in a heated discussion with Wordsworth, while Keats is watching and smiling. Mary Shelley is looking at Blake's drawings, throwing me an amused look. I know I only have the 2nd volume (Romantic period and up), but still, there's also Marlowe and Shakespeare right next to me. Oh, and of course the American writers, too. My dear lady Dickinson, Whitman, Emerson, Atwood... Ah, we're one happy family.

This is how I feel when having this book in my hands... am I silly?
silversolitaire: (Default)

While I was driving home from work today, I had the weirdest thoughts. Like I always do when I can't do anything but stare for an hour. I either get increasingly tired or my mind starts to race. Thank God the latter happened today. While driving to work this morning (at 6:30, mind you) I had so many ideas for this book that's been haunting my brain for years now. And much to my own surprise it turned out to be so much different from what I thought it would. My initial idea was something gloomy, darkly romantic. And now it even got funny in a way. That's too weird. But I was so full of ideas, I had to write it down at once. I love it when that happens.

And then, when driving back from work, my thoughts got increasingly sinister. I saw my own blood today. In a very natural way, actually. But it had the same effect on me as always. I just love my skin, so white, and then these ruby red trickles as a contrast... it's bewitching. I immediately knew again why this is the only way to keep me calm when my depressions won't let me rest. I wonder... is it normal to have these desires?

I realized today that I'm in constant danger of dying. Because it could happen to me that I was just bleeding to death without meaning to. I can see myself, sitting in a chair, my arm dangling down the side, a large gash on it and blood dripping from it, down on the floor. It's such a beautiful image. I can feel the peacefulness of this moment, the sweet joy... how it would tickle and tingle, burning so sweetly... even now I want to do it. But I'm not suicidal at all! I don't want to die, I see no reason to. Still... I just might not be able to resist the... sweeter taste of pain anymore one day.

I will have to make sure to add this paragraph to my will: "Should I have died like that, believe me, I didn't mean to. I wasn't looking for death... I just couldn't resist the sweetness any longer."

I am afraid of my self-destruction sometimes. I was speeding again today and while I did it suddenly so many moments of my car crash came back to my memory. Now I remember how the car started to slide, the screaming of the tires. That I remember. I remember how the metal howled when it bended and the shattering of the glass. When I watched Mission: Impossible 2 I got so sick at the realistic sounds. Now I know why... But I am still missing the essential 30 seconds. Those will never come back, I'm sure. At least I know now what I did right after I came to myself, dangling in the security belts down the roof of my car. I turned off the radio! It was still working and it was so loud! It was Rage against the Machine - Know your Enemy. I never listened to this song again and this is almost six months ago now.

I wonder if I'm trying to force something... speeding that way. Why did I do that?

One thing I really regret about this car crash is that I didn't get any scars. Really. I would have wanted that. A constant reminder of it. I know the story of every single scar on my body. It's my diary. If I had gotten just one scar, to keep the memory for ever... but I didn't cut anything, despite dropping on the shattered sunshine roof... I really regret that a lot...

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February 2009

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