The pleasure principle of blogging states that if/when the blog starts pleasing an audience, it must commit suicide.
I did this with my last diary, and I have half a mind to put the principle in action here too. I no longer want to write - because what I have to write is not what I have to share too. I cannot explain. But I realize that tetrachotomies are painful to sustain. There is a conflict between what I really think, the life I live, what I want to write about, and what I actually end up writing.
I hate this. I hate this and all other dilemmas of life. I hate the fact that I am unable to take the slightest of decisions. I am lost in the jungle of what I want, what I may have, what I cannot have, what I should not have, what I can have if I desire it enough - and whether it's the wrong fucking jungle after all.
Fuck you. Fuck this diary. And since when did I start using the word diary anyway? I always hated this, as I hated jokers.
I do not want to write.
Allah is Beautiful, and Hu Loves Beauty!
When the primordial Question, "Am I not your Lord?" reached my perception, I remember, I had said, "Yes! And You are Beautiful! And I love You!" That became the anthem of my soul. Then I was put to sleep. Now I wake up. This is a chronicle of my awakening.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
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Bad day at the office?
ReplyDeleteFor someone who doesn't want to write, you have a very verbose way of expressing it. Looking at your blog I was pretty sure all that positive, wholesome goodness...what did you call it? aaah, the lust for life...had to pop at the seams sooner or later. Congratulations, it goes to show that you're also a down2earth slop-artist just like the rest of us. And that is something to be proud of! So pat yourself on the back. :-)
If great men are the ones that have no secrets, it is the ones that have secrets that make this world turn. As do jokers.
I would recommend reckless indulgence (in something that causes temporary amnesia, just temporary -- not overkill) to help get over your preoccupation. After that you can stop writing...! Excuse me, (yawwwwn) it's way past my nap hour...
I have two things to say. The first, I won't. The second is the obvious irony: a Lust for Life is named in the honor of Vincent Van Gogh.
ReplyDeleteI have an uneasy liking for my heroes, who killed themselves. Blogged on this earlier.
Be my guest. Connect the dots.
Assalamaoalaykum ...!
ReplyDeleteOh ... i have just caught ur blog :) and u r saying u wanna quit ... ! i hope u havenmt got some job in doll designing :P
Well, be calm ... u can change ur blog's address ... with kleeping the same content .. if u'd like it :)
Take carez
Wassalam
Oscar Wilde said insincerity is the trait that causes us to have multiple personalities. As long as you have something to hide you'll have another personality in the closet to dress up in. It's a more ...romantic... way of looking at the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde concept.
ReplyDeleteEnigmas camouflage the personalities of people who kill themselves. That's what makes them attractive, the mystery and shadow and the damnation. The irony is that you know that they are damned yet you are attracted to them because of the enigma and mystery that shrouds them. They're questions with answers beyond reach. Maybe you like to see a certain reflection in this irony perhaps? Maybe you blog to vent this very irony out of your system? :-)
Cheers.