Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Her friend went, "ah, that's because your not looking in the right places. Modes of transport, roads, pathways create an imagined boundary your mind unconsciously adheres to. Step off the well trodden road and wander in total opposition to these man made maps, and you'll find other things you thought weren't there."
I felt it satisfyingly enlightening. Something akin to "the limits of my language are the limits of my thought".
and i can't help but realise postmodernism views like existentialism and shit all stemmed from a literature long uttered before by others who lived before us. And then it's like how Wilde put it:
"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone
else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation"
Everything that we've tried to live for, aspire for, and believe in has been done, a million and one times. We slip on the mud round the bends of street corners and jostle for space amongst treacherous umbrellas and hazy fingers grasping for a foothold. We slip on the mud. Just like ten thousand, ten million, billions of other street passengers have slipped before us.
mud upon mud, crust upon crust. We're all hurtling towards an inexorable progress that has been done before, and before and before before that.
Of course it's perfectly reasonable to question the validity in carrying on. In short, why do we even try. Why do we bother? i don't know, i really don't. Perhaps it's precisely this that keeps us on, searching for the reason why we're still searching.
i want so much more than they've got planned.
Button the mask, tie up those shoelaces, and just pretend this world of ours is enough for dreaming. Joyce Lim unzipped at 1:59 AM with 0 comments
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