not blogging is the new blogging
it's a momentous occasion.
this marks my 200th post. that seemed pretty rad to me earlier today and i spent a lot of time pondering what i might write about for just such an event. then i happened to read that ubie has just published her 2000th post which makes 200 look like...well...i guess, roughly 10 times fewer posts. in recognition of her major feat and my minor one, all props to ubie shall be in caps and all props to me in lower case possibly with the allowance of a smaller font/italics as follows:
PROPS to ubie
props to dia
on to the post.
the human condition never ceases to amaze me. its layers are seemingly endless and always capable of escalating to unseen heights or unimaginable lows. what's even more miraculous is our inventive nature. given enough time and emotional attachment, i have the ability to take even the coldest and most self-involved of souls and convince myself that there is depth and general good-heartedness there. my mother has always maintained that i live in a dream world. in such a world, imagination is king and the resulting effects have often led me to heartache. some days it's my superpower, but these days it's just good, old-fashioned hubris.
i know what you might say. that it's karma or some equivalent, as then it lays the blame elsewhere- but then again, tomorrow you'll feel differently and then the next day and the day after that. yours are the sort of feelings that change like the weather, too shallow at the roots to be held onto for any length of time. not at all what i expected, and even as it all came to light- still i pretended not to notice. a year later, i'm nothing if not ashamed at the way i deluded myself. i can't think of an explanation for it now, but at the time i was deafened by the softness of your voice and what i imagined was held beyond.
"...too late, too late, too late. ever since the first day you held me by the waist and said, 'careful...or we'll get attached'. but it's too late. too late. and i'll never be the same..."
but you...you're just a lyric now. no deeper than the ink nor the paper on which you're written.
this marks my 200th post. that seemed pretty rad to me earlier today and i spent a lot of time pondering what i might write about for just such an event. then i happened to read that ubie has just published her 2000th post which makes 200 look like...well...i guess, roughly 10 times fewer posts. in recognition of her major feat and my minor one, all props to ubie shall be in caps and all props to me in lower case possibly with the allowance of a smaller font/italics as follows:
PROPS to ubie
props to dia
on to the post.
the human condition never ceases to amaze me. its layers are seemingly endless and always capable of escalating to unseen heights or unimaginable lows. what's even more miraculous is our inventive nature. given enough time and emotional attachment, i have the ability to take even the coldest and most self-involved of souls and convince myself that there is depth and general good-heartedness there. my mother has always maintained that i live in a dream world. in such a world, imagination is king and the resulting effects have often led me to heartache. some days it's my superpower, but these days it's just good, old-fashioned hubris.
i know what you might say. that it's karma or some equivalent, as then it lays the blame elsewhere- but then again, tomorrow you'll feel differently and then the next day and the day after that. yours are the sort of feelings that change like the weather, too shallow at the roots to be held onto for any length of time. not at all what i expected, and even as it all came to light- still i pretended not to notice. a year later, i'm nothing if not ashamed at the way i deluded myself. i can't think of an explanation for it now, but at the time i was deafened by the softness of your voice and what i imagined was held beyond.
"...too late, too late, too late. ever since the first day you held me by the waist and said, 'careful...or we'll get attached'. but it's too late. too late. and i'll never be the same..."
but you...you're just a lyric now. no deeper than the ink nor the paper on which you're written.
posted by diadima at 8:52 PM
2 Comments:
It's only 1000. But thanks anyways.
And who needs a smelly jerk when there are so many wonderfully delightful men in the world? Take your pick! They're out there!
That just means you have more of a life than her.
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