i brood, a lot.
since the present doesn’t interest me, i would go ponder into the far reaching (indefinite) future planning of things things i wish to happen. of course, this imagining doesn’t come in a methodical manner; that is after A then B, and subsequently C, but rather the ‘future’ that i envision always come in moments or situations that would be able to encapsulate everything that matters, a sort of mis-en-scene, if you wish to use the french term. of course, all i imagine are scenes, but never concrete happenings. so conversations, gestures, facial expressions, movement, that would give away five ten years in a matter of minutes – that’s the sort pondering that i do, and i revise these scenes over and over again until it is, not perfected, but.. appropriate.
sometimes you have friends in which you seem to disapprove some parts of their behaviour, but to dismiss people entirely based on those behaviours alone seemed a bit ridiculous. tolerance, i tell myself, everything i seem to find myself in situations where i have to clean up people’s shit, which is the case for every morning inside the kitchen. yes, the george samsa situation seems to have gone out of hand, and as i type this there came out from under the television another roach. buggery. but winter is coming, and with this comes a little death, although not a definite, permanent death, but i still i hope the day will come when i will not see a single cockroach in the house again. sometimes you need a little optimism to get by.
as week thirteen seems to close i think i have learnt a lot in the lit class. perhaps not to the point of perfectly analysing a text, but rather probably a higher appreciation of any text or film, however boring they are. and the word intertextuality, perhaps the most important terms discovered, meaning the reinforcing of a text by another text, but by no means influenced by it. macam name-dropping tapi subtle. think The Marriage Plot versus our local Amerika. other than that perhaps a coming home into literature which i have abandoned for a good four years.
i am thinking of course to continue taking this subject, going into Modernism, ignoring altogether the opportunity to learn a new language, but french or german can be learn anytime. why so eurocentric, in the first place? i wish to return to bahasa melayu, to read more malay books, to become more eloquent in their words. for now i know nothing. translation comes to mind, but so far i have nothing worthwhile to work on. letters from rilke seems always a delight to read, but do they contain any coherency from one to another?
plans remain abundant. but this must be taken note of; each time you are about to go out to a large gathering, always remember to drink coffee or else suffer from irritability.
now i am in dire need to read something good, something that i would immediately fall in love with, but so far, nothing, nothing, seems to be as intriguing or as profound. perhaps all that remains is to now, write, but as i am in this state of having someone to talk to all the time (or most), makes me lazy. hence the lack of writing. tee hee.
and now i invite you to listen to Walter Kaufmann’s lectures on Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and Sartre. because as far as i know and led to believe, this dude knows Western thought more than anyone else.
goodnight. i have a test tomorrow.
perkaraperkara 