is a troubling thing in general, full of wicked-fast surprises and cosmic shifts for which one is never prepared. Tonight I am not prepared for anything. There are an infinite number of things I’d like to express, but I’m not really able to get any of them out, and they’ve all been said at varying times and places in the past anyway, so it begins to feel like repeating myself.
Not that repeating oneself isn’t also the stuff of life—it is.
Things I hate:
Things in the world that I know for sure:
Things in the world that I don’t think I have any idea about:
The old inner conflict of the blog is back. :-/ The axiom of this inner conflict is that the things that need most desperately to be discussed and communicated are precisely those that can’t be because to do so endangers everything else in life.
The blog is thus a space of possibility that is, frustratingly, never fulfilled.