sleepy people in cramped cubicles with the florescent lights shining down on stale air. she wondered whether this will be her situation for the next two or three months as work begins to settle in. Amal handed her Murakami’s Pinball book last night, to read his prologue, as they talk and talk about the people and lovers from the past and how the present situation presents itself. it is like therapy, to be able to talk about the same feelings over and over again that you seem to find little bits of memories suddenly float on the surface in form of a panda bear or elaborate words or a photograph.
i forgot to turn off the lamps again last night, and couldn’t start my car. the people at tesco seem to relax after 10pm, everyone is in the mood to talk to strangers and smile and take more interest in their surroundings. we walked to far end of the parking lot and several men were vaping (is this a word now?), i asked for a hand and off them bros go to start the car.
new towns and neighborhoods are always nice to explore, to climb in and out of roads and junctions and trails and reach the unknown hill. i attribute my fondness for exploring to pokemon, where one seems to move endlessly in every direction without hurrying to the next town.
i know not what has become of me lately. i must find the will to write, and must be consistent at it, but things and people they pop up so often and constantly but i no longer seek to flee. writing can no longer become a form of escapism for i have embraced my surroundings gladly (maybe i have finally phased out of the awkward teenager phase). i can no longer subscribe to Rilke’s words that i would die if i do not write.
“In the deepest hour of the night, confess to yourself that you would die if you were forbidden to write. And look deep into your heart where it spreads its roots, the answer, and ask yourself, must I write?”
i know now that i will not die, but must i write? yes. i see it as the only form that truest expression of myself can be found, but sometimes the truth can be fearful to be written down. one allows oneself to become vulnerable, the longer one writes and lingers on paragraphs that they tend to become nasty and therefore un-reflective of what i show to the world.
but no matter, no matter.
perkaraperkara 