Opera au Pensée
Monday, December 27, 2004
Damn.
I am in a mouldable mood. James asks, "Mouldable?" I respond, "Yes".
Have I found a place of balance; that in this day I can be without anger, without happiness, without joy, without sorrow? Am I so unaffected by disturbing or happy thoughts alike that I might claim my mindset to be the Canadian in the U.N. of mindsets; that I hereby be known as neutral without bias?
Or rather, have I found a desolate island, one that knows no anger, no happiness, no joy, no sorrow? That I am not able to feel anything simply becuase they are no where to be found? Would I dig deep to find some emotion burried, covered in mud, but existent, no less?
Or rather still, that perhaps apathy has struck. That one brain can only take so much caring, only so much theorizing, philosophizing, that eventually it will take someone else's emoting and mould it to it's own.
Perhaps given all of the above, I will balance my efforts in digging at my apathy and philosohphizing. Maybe I will find some reserve of cold, burried, imitated feeling to reproduce. Or maybe instead an inviting, aged and thoughtful persona will be exposed.
--
Piano frolicking in the pastures beyond, does he ever breathe, does he ever pause? Nay, he be forever pleasuring, forever tickling. Who is he that swoops down ever so joyously from his soprano sounding flute, that he may pleasure the pianist, blow his hair, and cause two sounds to mingle so effortlessly beautiful? The duet like music to my ears fill void where there was once passion.
--
If opening an MSN message is sitting down to have a chat with a friend, then making them wait for 20 minutes is staring blankly into their face, making them try to understand through telepathy what it is they want to know, or what it is you want them to know. Oddly enough, this is a very thoughtful thing.
I am in a mouldable mood. James asks, "Mouldable?" I respond, "Yes".
Have I found a place of balance; that in this day I can be without anger, without happiness, without joy, without sorrow? Am I so unaffected by disturbing or happy thoughts alike that I might claim my mindset to be the Canadian in the U.N. of mindsets; that I hereby be known as neutral without bias?
Or rather, have I found a desolate island, one that knows no anger, no happiness, no joy, no sorrow? That I am not able to feel anything simply becuase they are no where to be found? Would I dig deep to find some emotion burried, covered in mud, but existent, no less?
Or rather still, that perhaps apathy has struck. That one brain can only take so much caring, only so much theorizing, philosophizing, that eventually it will take someone else's emoting and mould it to it's own.
Perhaps given all of the above, I will balance my efforts in digging at my apathy and philosohphizing. Maybe I will find some reserve of cold, burried, imitated feeling to reproduce. Or maybe instead an inviting, aged and thoughtful persona will be exposed.
--
Piano frolicking in the pastures beyond, does he ever breathe, does he ever pause? Nay, he be forever pleasuring, forever tickling. Who is he that swoops down ever so joyously from his soprano sounding flute, that he may pleasure the pianist, blow his hair, and cause two sounds to mingle so effortlessly beautiful? The duet like music to my ears fill void where there was once passion.
--
If opening an MSN message is sitting down to have a chat with a friend, then making them wait for 20 minutes is staring blankly into their face, making them try to understand through telepathy what it is they want to know, or what it is you want them to know. Oddly enough, this is a very thoughtful thing.