themes: Wound That Will Not Heal

2000

December

2000 Dec 5
Revelation

It figures that just when I'm about to write down an important revelation, something comes up. So let's see if I can catch what I was talking about.

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2001

January

2001 Jan 17
Trembling

Holy mother of God! Why am I trembling? Something like joy courses through my veins, but the tears are waiting to fall. Will it be like this for the rest of my waking hours, to stand still, lost in a fog of indecision, while happiness is something that happens to other people?

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June

2001 Jun 18
Physician, Heal Thy Self

The wound inside my heart.

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2002

November

2002 Nov 16
Wound Check - Post Op Day 1

Recurrent acute mental emesis (another brain barf)

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December

2002 Dec 8
Vector Tracings

I remember white outlines on a black background, kind of like a blueprint being drawn before my eyes. I don't know. Like a concept diagram. There was a road, or a railway. I know: as if reality were being generated as I cast my eyes upon it. More concretely, like a primitive 3D shooter (like Doom, or Counterstrike) whose graphics engine relied only on vector tracings, and which could not keep up with realtime. I suppose, if I really knew what I was doing, I would try to approximate it with a Flash animation, but such as it is.

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2003

January

2003 Jan 13
Serenity Now!

Oh yes. I am a bitter, resentful bastard.

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2004

March

2004 Mar 2
the rain

As a coda to my rant and rave about my love life (or, more accurately, the lack thereof), I have these bits and pieces of lyrics to pop music floating through my head:

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2006

June

2006 Jun 5
intuition ain’t all it’s cracked up to be

I wonder if maybe the main reason why guys don’t listen to their sixth sense is the fact that most of the time it tells us completely freaky stuff over which we have no control over.

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2006 Jun 5
less portentious than that

OK, I didn’t mean to make my last post sound ominous. Maybe it’s because tomorrow is June 6. (You know, 6/6/06. I don’t think the Devil really gives a damn about the vagaries of the Julian and Gregorian calendars, so it probably doesn’t have any significance to him, although it may very well have significance to some Satanist or nihilistic terrorists a la Columbine.)

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2006 Jun 23
purpose (portentiousness on a friday night)

Now my philosophical and spiritual beliefs have been very murky these past years, ever since I found myself entangled within a crisis of faith. On one extreme, I do often feel that we live in an uncaring universe, on an ill-regarded planet, orbiting an unremarkable sun. We are victims of chance, the end results of a trillion, trillion, trillion dice rolls, random points along the lines that form the trajectory of the quadrillion, quadrillion particles spewed out from the Big Bang.

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2007

July

2007 Jul 7
all we need is time

in the fog of indecision
the clarity of the dawn
in the anxious disappointment of missed chances
the cold, hard certainty of inescapable destiny
in the silence of defeat
the distant roar of victory

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September

2007 Sep 9
blast crater

I guess there is no recovering from this. Even 10 years out.

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2008

May

2008 May 2
cause is not reason

It is easy to fall into the trap of believing that causation means intentionality. Lots of things happen where you can trace the chain of events, see exactly how one thing leads to another, and all of these things could be devoid of intention. While each decision may be made by a rational agent, the sum is not greater than its parts.

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June

2008 Jun 11
¡ay caramba!

Coherence is probably a little too much to ask at this hour, after this much to drink. Today I have come to another bitter revelation, and I have a good idea of what my trajectory is going to be.

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July

2008 Jul 31
the wound

As I sit here procrastinating, irrationally hoping that I can somehow, someday figure out how to stop time, it occurred to me that I will probably never be whole again.

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2009

May

2009 May 11
always, always uncertainty

May gray is in full effect, and I'm dragging in the mornings, my eastward commute cloaked in sea-borne fog. Everything felt out of sync for some reason, and instead of listening to the morning shows, I ended up plugging in my iPod.

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2010

April

2010 Apr 9
picking through the debris

in the shadow of the white mountain gleaming
still ice-crowned though the cherry trees blossom
the sky pale blue as the warmth of daylight fades
I'm lost in a memory of a dream forsaken

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