Every time I feel these damned migraines I start to lose touch with reality. Last night I felt the migraines were trying to tell me something – trying to remind me of something I had long forgotten.
The rhythm of my body has become unpredictable. Weeks of no rest, sparse food, sparse sleep, and transitory places have left me in shambles. The dreams I do have feel as if I’m awake, and in those dreams I’m still learning lessons. My mind has no way to relax.
I just don’t think it’s too much to ask.
I can’t explain it
But it’s time for some figurative language.
Is there no divinity left within me?
Is there still light to run toward?
A small spark may yet live
Underneath all these ashes
Ipropose that commercialism is a gift. While I may be a madman, to admit the current state of my psyche only furthers the strength of my argument. If I weren’t so crazy, I may not see the blessing of the distraction in front of my eyes.
Freedom has come to mean choice. It has less to do with the human spirit than with different brands of deodorant. -Arundhati Roy, Field Notes on Democracy
Part book review, part earnest love letter, this piece of writing is very close to my heart. I often find myself wistfully inspired when I’m traveling. I had the great pleasure of reading Nocturnes by Kazuo Ishiguro (rented from Austin Public Library!) in one sitting on the plane. Originally composed as a text I couldn’t send, this love letter 2.0 will hopefully strike a chord regardless of your romantic affiliation. Enjoy!
During a gchat conversation with my lovely boyfriend, I stumbled upon this point. I wanted to share it because I think it’s quite nice.