Main Complaints

May 31, 2008

jfdosjfiodsjfidjfsdjfdiosjfisd. Getting started!

One of my problems these days is thinking that people are boring. I discount them because there is no reason behind a lot of what they’re saying besides simply announcing themselves as present in the immediate space and time. For example: “I found that Heart of Gold documentary. Five dollars.” This the reply: “Oh yeah. Good value.” To me this is a kind of living death. But what do I expect? What do I think speech ought to accomplish? Some revelation of an intense internal truth? Do I think that the exchange should proceed like this: “I found that Heart of Gold documentary for five dollars.” “… and? And? That’s it? What the fuck did you open your mouth for?” Or like this: “I don’t have anything interesting to say.” “At least you’re not spouting irrelevance.” And what do I have to say that is so interesting? Nothing. I don’t often speak, and when I do it’s often incoherent and rambling and completely uninteresting, or it’s about myself, which is, I suppose, some revelation of an internal truth, but it’s probably as boring as if I’d just said something dumb about a DVD I’d just bought. But I know how it feels to say something that I know will be seized upon by my company as a statement that seems to reflect our particular selves, who we are, and it feels calculated and dishonest and artificial. I hate feeling as though my self is so flimsy and insubstantial that some statement I decide on a whim to make can constitute it so vividly. But if I refuse to constitute myself so, then I appear to be aloof or just uninteresting. So I am more or less adrift in a sea of language and identity that is central to who I am but antagonistic to who I should be. My choices are either to go along with it or not, and I choose not, and I choose to be annoyed by seemingly harmless statements.

Another poetry exercise:

The yolk scratched the brine
And I finished off the bottle
The final slug of wine, a red
Line, hazy as the sunset and
Dirty as the sand

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