The bench looking out
onto the desolate intersection.
Yesternight was a sad one, But alas, there are some life lessons embedded within any struggle. You could say I saw it coming: those are the worst. After spending an hour and a half reflecting and writing on the Eleventh of September and other matters pertinent to my post -I lost it all.
Scene 1: I am sitting in my tableless apartment, upon a wooden stool at the counter. My internet connection ceases. It doesn't matter, at this point, that my computer plods along at a slow clip -all I need to do is finish my blog and post it. Time: 10:30. No problem though because when you live in a mountain resort town, hot signals move through the downtown streets like a child skittering across pavement on a hot day. Hotter than street lamps; more solid than the posts they dangle from.
Scene 2: Walking downtown -only to the outskirts, I sit down on a bench that overlooks a deserted intersection: one man bikes by, a blinking light strapped to his head. An over sized jeep speeds to a stop, continues through the intersection, travels down to the next adjacent road, turns around, and comes back through the intersection; the charioteer, obviously a man of purpose. I hear a couple yelling in the distance, the doppler in full effect. I can't make out the words.
And as they move further away, the amplitude of the sound waves increases with each pedal stroke; I beg them to come back (or at least within earshot) so that I may determine the upshot of this dispute. Moreover, I have yet to determine the instigator but I assume that because the girl's voice is the more demanding of the two, it was the boyfriend who overstepped the boundaries of flirtation.
JS-Kit Comments
Friday, September 11, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Facebook Five Hundred Challenge
Word of the Day.
Simulacra (plural to simulacrum): 1. Slight, unreal, or superficial likeness or semblance
2. An effigy, image, or representation.
Used in context (taken from an Updike article in New Yorker): "His errant protagonists move, in their fragile suburban simulacra of paradise, from one island of momentary happiness to the imperilled next"
"Get by with a little help from my friends"
Jimmy
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Identity Immasculated
The Word: Virginity. Dictionary.com's (what better dictionary is there? Probably the OED, which I would've used if the college I attended for four years didn't throw me out to the wayside and divest me of using any of its electronic resources) definition: 2. the state or condition of being pure, unsullied, untouched.
Today I lost my virginity. I held out for as long as I could - definitely not something I was ashamed of or eager to loose. I felt like one of the few and the proud. But maybe there's a point at which we hold onto something not from a moral platform but to raise ourselves amongst others through a vague and vacant sense of moral superiority: a separation of ourselves from those more depraved. And the desire becomes one not of experience but of avoidance - a way to maintain an identity.
Its funny that we use the word lost, because it seems like something we gain - a valuable experience. But I feel as though I did lose something - a part of me, a childlike innocence - a quixotic tendency to resist the mindless current of the mainstream. I wish I could've held out longer but I was forced; well, not forced, but pushed against my will. Today is the 9th of Sept. 2009. A date I will always remember. It is the day I disrobed my familiar habiliments and donned a new identity. Today is the day I joined face book.
My excuse (everyone's has one): its for a job application to travel around the world. Fully funded; 365 days; 192 countries; the job: documenting the "simple moments of happiness" Have I sold out? Maybe.
Five friends and counting,
Jamis
p.s. If I friend you please don't reject me: a face book friend is worth a tenth of a real one but being rejected is ten times as hard.
Today I lost my virginity. I held out for as long as I could - definitely not something I was ashamed of or eager to loose. I felt like one of the few and the proud. But maybe there's a point at which we hold onto something not from a moral platform but to raise ourselves amongst others through a vague and vacant sense of moral superiority: a separation of ourselves from those more depraved. And the desire becomes one not of experience but of avoidance - a way to maintain an identity.
Its funny that we use the word lost, because it seems like something we gain - a valuable experience. But I feel as though I did lose something - a part of me, a childlike innocence - a quixotic tendency to resist the mindless current of the mainstream. I wish I could've held out longer but I was forced; well, not forced, but pushed against my will. Today is the 9th of Sept. 2009. A date I will always remember. It is the day I disrobed my familiar habiliments and donned a new identity. Today is the day I joined face book.
My excuse (everyone's has one): its for a job application to travel around the world. Fully funded; 365 days; 192 countries; the job: documenting the "simple moments of happiness" Have I sold out? Maybe.
Five friends and counting,
Jamis
p.s. If I friend you please don't reject me: a face book friend is worth a tenth of a real one but being rejected is ten times as hard.
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