Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Freudian ecstasy
Due to a malfunctioning of a keyboard button and my absent-mindedness, my initial reaction to Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind published somewhere in early April was accidentally erased. And to complete a completely existentialist experience, I totally forgot what I had written. There's always room for clean slate, but wasn't that Freudian by definition?
Maybe I rely too much on my written words (like note pads, diary, the blog) ever since I started writing again, just like after we punch in people's phone numbers in our cell phones it's the end of the story. Of course, if we lose our cell phones, we lose all our contacts. All those brilliant hours picking up girls at Whole Foods and Cheesecake Factory are wasted. Back to stage one: loneliness, emptiness, nothingness. Only if we could memorize some of the numbers! Damn it!
And ever since I started writing in this blog, my language became ever more careful, meticulously calculated, as if I was trying to impress my reader, or writing a news article, or perfecting some of my inherently flawed ideologies (Notice I don't use w/ or b/c anymore; I spell out the entire word). The hell with it! From now on, more power to spontaneity. More power to my random, darkly comic, and incredibly intelligent thoughts, that made me who I am.
So forget I ever wrote this entry, because it doesn't really matter. What matters is if you enjoyed what you just read or even laughed out loud. Well, treasure that experience. Whenever you feel sad, try to retrieve that feeling or near-feeling so you can say yourself, that was just beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
P.S. Being prolific is not being rewarded anymore. That's why Quentin Tarantino has only made four movies up to this point, strictly speaking.
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Maybe I rely too much on my written words (like note pads, diary, the blog) ever since I started writing again, just like after we punch in people's phone numbers in our cell phones it's the end of the story. Of course, if we lose our cell phones, we lose all our contacts. All those brilliant hours picking up girls at Whole Foods and Cheesecake Factory are wasted. Back to stage one: loneliness, emptiness, nothingness. Only if we could memorize some of the numbers! Damn it!
And ever since I started writing in this blog, my language became ever more careful, meticulously calculated, as if I was trying to impress my reader, or writing a news article, or perfecting some of my inherently flawed ideologies (Notice I don't use w/ or b/c anymore; I spell out the entire word). The hell with it! From now on, more power to spontaneity. More power to my random, darkly comic, and incredibly intelligent thoughts, that made me who I am.
So forget I ever wrote this entry, because it doesn't really matter. What matters is if you enjoyed what you just read or even laughed out loud. Well, treasure that experience. Whenever you feel sad, try to retrieve that feeling or near-feeling so you can say yourself, that was just beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
P.S. Being prolific is not being rewarded anymore. That's why Quentin Tarantino has only made four movies up to this point, strictly speaking.
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