4.22.07

i remember the feeling of absolute security... curling up next to a woodstove under a fleece blanket with a cat or two, watching movies with my dad and brother, or watching nova, or watching masterpiece theatre. sometimes my dad would sit me down on the couch and hand me a set of headphones and make me listen to a specific song: sometimes opera; sometimes zeppelin or the who or bruce springsteen. the way my dad listens to music makes sense to me. it's so strange that music can have such an effect on some people and seemingly no effect on others. or is it just that some are more aware of music's effect on them than others? it seems impossible to be completely immune to its magic.

some days, there's a sadness surrounding me that rolls like the hills, and other days the hills seem necessary and only temporary, not threatening and just matter-of-fact. on days like today, waking up, walking and getting coffee, and coming home to a familiar and comfortable clutter is almost as good as curling up with some cats next to a woodstove.

sometimes i get the impression that the self knows what is best for it.

i used to read books about people living alone in the woods in cabins, or people living simple lives in the wilderness with a few close friend or family members. one of my favorite books as a kid was "where the red fern grows": lessons of life and death, the grey area between right and wrong, and the cost of attachment at a young age. i'd like to reread some of the books that i read frequently as a kid so as to remind myself of where some of my most basic ideas about morality and life might have stemmed from. although i doubt the sources will be easy, in the least, to pin down.

later, i read biographies about artists who escaped cities or towns or family situations in order to find a secluded life. it's fascinating that the life around peers can be so difficult to withdraw from that the individual has to leave the location entirely in order to get away from its pull. it makes sense to me, though. when one person has work to do, and reaches a point of frustration with it, social distraction is but a phone call away. i'd like to socialize still, but in ways that are more gratifying and inspiring: over coffee, or over dinner, or while being mutually productive or creative; while studying, while writing, or while trading books or movies or thoughts or support or ideas. i'm tired of parties. if i want to go to a party, i might as well go back to nevada city for a weekend and get my dance on. if i'm not inclined to do so, then i obviously don't have much of a desire to go to parties, and thus i shouldn't be going to them here. not when i have work that i want to do, anyhow; and not when i have so much free time that can be wisely used.

people spend so many hours planning and plotting. they seem to plot things as if they never expect the future to actually happen. perhaps people should adopt a "one day left to live" kind of mindset: not with friends, because the reminders of love and gratitude would get annoying if reoccuring daily, but with one's work. we're young, and yes, youth is about finding the self and having fun, but a big part of finding the self is time spent alone, and a big part of having fun, long-term, is building a meaningful life for the self. i don't think i'm out of line in saying that learning how to be attractive to the opposite sex, or learning how to party, is not exactly the key to a meaningful life.

i was talking to somebody about artists and fashion. he was telling me about why artists wear all black: as he sees it, they don't want to have to apply creative thought to anything other than their art; not even what they are wearing. it's, to them, a waste of energy and brain space. or that was, supposedly, the original philosophy behind traditional artists' garb.

i was on BART the other day, and i got to thinking about imagery of newspapers. i saw a black man sitting in an aisle across from me, well-dressed, reading a newspaper. on my walk to the BART stations minutes earlier, i had passed another man, also black, sleeping beneath newspapers on the sidewalk: not an uncommon sight in the city. it struck me as extremely interesting that a symbol of intellectualism, society, culture, education, progress, and politics might make itself visible in such contrasting ways. the same thing that allows someone to be aware of the current events of his world allows someone else to get some sleep despite the cold, and get a moment of peace and escape from the oppression of such events.